We Only Live Once: Memoir of a survivor

By Karine Tobin

This is a story not only for those touched by cancer but also for those looking for inspiration to follow their dreams.

Karine Tobin’s emotional and candid memoir We Only Live Once traces how the young mother’s life was turned upside down by a diagnosis of terminal cancer.

The book conveys a tum

• Language: English
• Publisher: karine tobin
• Release date: May 22, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925471489

Karine Tobin

Broke and broken at twenty-eight years old, Karine Tobin travels across the globe and achieves her dream life. But when a terminal diagnosis threatens to bring it all crashing down, she becomes determined to spread her message of living a mindful life. Since then, she's studied alongside Benjamin J Harvey, a professional speaker and life coach, has been featured in the Daily Mail, and has written and published her memoir, We Only Live Once. As an author and life coach, Karine's mission is to empower people to live their life to the fullest and realise their dreams. She helps those who are struggling to find their way clarify their goals and create a path towards a life with no regrets.

Book preview

Introduction

Everyone has their own story. This book brings you along on my extensive journey of discovering that life should never be taken for granted. Every moment deserves to be lived to its fullest, because in the end, it helps you understand the big picture: that everything happens for a reason, even if it seems unfair or outrageous at times. Later on down the track, you will understand why it had to be that way, because what happens doesn’t really matter. It’s how you respond that does. I’ve also learned that health and time are worth more than riches, and I would give away all the money in the world to get more time with my family.

This book is for my children, Jack and Elyze, and my wonderful husband, Justin. I love them so much. Somewhere along the line, they saved my life, and I want them to have a reminder of it; something tangible they can keep forever. They are my reasons for living. They’re part of me, and I want to be with them every day of their lives, sharing precious moments along the way. Even in my craziest and most beautiful dreams, I never could have imagined being blessed by such an amazing family. They are everything I’ve always wanted in the deepest recesses of my heart.

This is not only my story; it’s our story. Because I didn’t want them to struggle to read this in my native language, French, I’ve tried my best to write down my feelings and memories in English. Of course, I hope to be around long enough to tell this story myself, face to face, and also teach them their second language. But life can surprise you, so I prefer to be safe rather than sorry.

1

It’s September 2015 in Sydney. I’m thirty weeks pregnant and definitely bigger than I was during my last pregnancy. My belly is already so big, I can’t walk or see my feet. I’m like a giant bowling ball. I can’t believe it. From now on, every day is a bonus for me, and I really hope this time around. I will carry this baby to term and leave the hospital with balloons and presents, like all the other mums.

para-break

Our first pregnancy started back in June 2013, a year and eight months into my marriage to Justin. I’d just done a pregnancy test, and it was positive. I was nearly in tears, so excited. Ecstatic, even. My twin sister, Laetitia, had just visited. She’d come all the way to Sydney from Paris to meet my husband and introduce us to her beautiful baby girl, Emy. I guess spending two weeks with such a cute one-year-old convinced us to have one of our own, and we started trying as soon as she left. A couple of months later, it finally happened. I’d been feeling sick and emotional for a week and wondering if I was pregnant. Laeti had been the first to know, of course. We’d done the test together over the phone.

I gave Justin a present that evening.

What is it? he asked. Why do I have a present? It’s not my birthday.

Open it. I said, beaming with excitement.

He unwrapped the small package and discovered a small jar of baby food, an apple, and banana puree.

Is that it? Is that what I believe it is? he asked with tears in his eyes.

Yes, I said.

I was so excited as I showed him the t-shirt I was wearing. There was a picture of an Anne Geddes baby, along with the positive pregnancy test. You’re going to be a daddy.

He was so happy. Tears formed in his eyes, and he brought me into his arms for a big cuddle. Then he kissed me with passion and bent over my belly to add, You’ll be a boy. You’ll be a boy. Make a boy. It was funny. I love when he’s happy, and he was over the moon. He took me back in his arms and held me tight.

I’d been smoking a couple of cigarettes a day back then, and I quit straight away. It’s funny how easy it is to give up such a bad habit after so many years, once you’re aware you have a human being growing inside you, even though it can be a weird feeling and scary at times.

I spent the next few weeks wondering if I needed to change my eating habits, sleep in a different position, stop my daily gym workouts, or if I should go private or public in terms of hospital care. Life was changing for the better, except that I was getting emotional. Justin and I were happily excited to become three. He helped me a lot at home, so I could rest, which gave me a nice feeling of support.

I wanted to keep it a secret from the outside world for the first three months, as nothing is really certain until then. Yet I did tell my parents, and we decided to tell Justin’s mum. They were happy for us and promised not to tell anyone. Some of my workmates figured it out because of my glow. Justin and I couldn’t help but look at baby stuff and start thinking of our future family.

After eleven weeks, I had my first antenatal appointment. Justin came with me, and together we listened to the baby’s heart. It was such a special moment. I was happy and laughing so hard, that we had to stop the foetal Doppler. The interferences with the machine were too noisy to listen to the beats. The nurse thought I was fifteen weeks pregnant rather than eleven, which was a bit comforting for me, as I’d put on nearly three kilos already. I still had to do the fourteen-week scan to make sure the baby’s health was fine and rule out Down Syndrome, so the next day, Justin and I went back to the hospital to meet our baby for the first time.

We arrived at the radiology department and couldn’t wait to enter the ultrasound room, not only because I’d drunk a lot of water, and my bladder was ready to explode, but also because we were longing to see our baby. After a little while, the technician led us into the room. I was excited and a bit nervous. I’d seen ultrasounds done in movies before, but now it was us. We were at the start of parenthood. We’d both decided not to know the gender, as Justin wanted it to be a surprise. We let the technician know not to tell us, but somehow, I thought it was a boy.

She started by putting some gel on my belly and then passed the monitor over it. Seeing our baby was so magical. Their little head, arms, and legs. I was nearly crying with happiness. But after a little while, I realised that the technician was quiet. I started to feel anxious and worried that something wasn’t right. Then she left the room without a word to us.

There’s something wrong, I told Justin.

No, you’re worrying for nothing. She’s going to come back. Everything is fine. He touched my hand, trying to comfort me.

I’m telling you, she was too quiet. This is beautiful, and I was so excited to see the baby. She should have been happier, even if she’s used to this. I’m scared something is happening. I don’t know what it is, but there’s a problem.

Let’s wait and see, okay? he said. Please calm down. We’ll know more when she gets back. He rubbed at my shoulder to get the tension out.

At this point, the technician came back into the room and said with no emotion, You need to talk to the doctor.

Why? What’s happening? I asked.

I can’t explain it myself. You need to talk to the doctor. I’ll show you the way now.

We followed her to the maternity ward, and she indicated a room where we could sit. The wait was excruciating. I felt a knot form in my chest, and as the minutes ticked on, Justin started worrying, too.

See? I told you. Something’s not right. Why else would we need to see the doctor? I’m so scared, Justin… I said and began sobbing.

The doctor entered the room. She wore a surgical uniform, as if she’d just performed a delivery. An intern came in behind her.

Hi… sorry, why are we here? What’s happening with the baby? I asked, urgency in my tone.

Unfortunately, the baby’s brain didn’t develop, she said. And they won’t be able to grow properly if you pursue the pregnancy. It’s a known condition called anencephaly.

The news was devastating. With just a few words, she’d ripped our hearts apart.

What does it mean? I don’t understand. What did I do wrong?

I was in shock and crying so much, I could barely hear her answer.

You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s a rare condition that happens to only one in ten thousand babies, she said, while offering me tissues. In this case, the hospital can offer to promptly terminate the pregnancy. You can do it tomorrow, if it’s convenient for you. Usually, the earlier, the better, she added, clearly feeling for us.

Oh, my God. I can’t believe this. One in ten thousand, and it happened to us.

Justin held me tight in his arms, barely coping with his own emotions. I thought about the ultrasound and how I’d been so happy, I hadn’t seen that my baby’s brain was missing. I’d just met them, and I had to say goodbye already. The tears wouldn’t stop coming and were rolling down my cheeks. I was devastated. It was surreal. What had we done to deserve so much suffering?

The doctor said, Sometimes it’s a lack of folic acid, but you’re taking supplements, so maybe it’s not that. Or you should have taken a higher dose, as there isn’t much in these tablets. But as I said, it’s rare, and it’s unfortunate, but there was nothing you could have done to really prevent it. Then she said, Do you want me to leave you for a while?

No, that’s fine. We’ll come back tomorrow. I looked at Justin for approval.

It’s up to you, my love. Whatever you want, Justin said, grief clouding his face.

Yes, it’s pointless to wait any longer, I said. What time should I come tomorrow? I asked while trying to regain some kind of composure.

Seven a.m. Here, at the maternity ward.

We left the hospital devastated, weakened, and heartbroken. All the happiness and excitement we’d had at the start of this appointment was taken away by the terrible news. Justin didn’t cry. He was trying to show strength and support. At least one of us had to stay strong. We went for a coffee and had a quiet walk on our favourite beach at La Perouse. I was still pregnant, my baby moving in my belly, alive. For now.

I felt so guilty. I was the one carrying the child, after all. I figured maybe something was wrong with me. I started doubting that I could have a normal baby.

We went back home after renting a couple of movies. As always, we had our shower together, and that night the water covered our flooding tears while we both held my belly, giving our last goodbyes to our beautiful unborn soul.

They’re still alive. Still moving in me. I can’t believe we have to abandon our child. This is so painful. I couldn’t stop thinking about the innocent life I was about to take away. My first baby…our first baby. We were so happy, and now this. It’s too hard, I blurted.

I’ll try to be strong for you, darling, Justin said through his tears. But it’s hard for me, too. It’s so hard. Life is so cruel. This is another reason why I don’t believe in God. Why would He do something like that? We didn’t do anything wrong." I could tell how affected he was. Not only was it the first time he cried for our baby, but it was the first time I’d ever seen Justin cry at all.

I know, I said. The only thing I prayed for, every day during this pregnancy, was to have a healthy baby. You don’t have to be strong for me. You’re still human. I love you, and I’m so sorry, baby.

The next morning, I was up at four. I couldn’t sleep. In tears, I called my twin sister in Paris to explain what was happening. With the time difference, I hadn’t been able to reach her before.

Then it was time to go. We arrived at the hospital at 6:45 a.m. and finished the paperwork by ten. Every time a nurse came to talk to me, she asked for my identity and why I was there. It was unbearable. I had to say termination too many times. They would take this life away, because they weren’t how they were supposed to be. I didn’t manage to finish my baby correctly. The guilt overtook me again. I was sobbing the whole time. Justin was there, holding my hand the whole way, until it was time to go into the theatre. He followed the team as they rolled my bed into the anaesthetic room, but then he had to leave me.

It was so distressing to be alone, surrounded by the medical team moving around me, each and every one of them having a job to do. They were about to take my baby away from me. It was my first time in surgery under general anaesthesia, and I couldn’t stop crying.

I was then transferred to the theatre, where the lights were blindingly bright. They moved me from my bed to the operating table, and I was terrified as they put a mask on my face and had me breathe into it. The anaesthetist injected something into my IV, and I quickly fell asleep, tears still wet on my face. The only thing I recall was having a weird and bright dream.

The next thing I knew, I woke up where I started, on the bed I got into when I’d arrived. I asked for Justin straight away. I wanted to see him. The nurse called for him, and he was by my side within minutes. It was 1:15p.m., and it was over. I felt tired and disoriented, sad and lost. I was bleeding a lot down there. I’d just lost my baby, and I didn’t have anything left in me… in my belly. Just their memory and the pictures of the ultrasound. Before I left, a nurse came to talk to me, wanting to make sure I would be okay. I was desperate, but she said that time would make things better. I would never forget, but the pain would soften.

The next few weeks were painful and sad. I couldn’t get more than a few days off work, and my boss wanted me back. I was grieving while trying to come back to my normal life. I had to tell the people who’d been aware I was pregnant what happened, and every single time it broke my heart just a little bit more.

We hadn’t wanted to know the gender. It was somehow easier not knowing what he/she was. Angels don’t have a gender, anyway. Justin never really understood why it took me so long to grieve my baby, as he recovered quite quickly. After a couple of weeks, he told me to move on. Men and women are so different when it comes to emotions and life or death. For him, it was, You live and then you die, and as death is part of life, when it happens, you just need to move on. I found that level of pragmatism harsh and insensitive.

Justin would get upset when I had to share my feelings, so after a few weeks, I kept my pain to myself. Finally, a few months after the loss, the routine took over, and we stopped talking about it. Also, I decided it was time to go back to my home country, France. I needed to be with my family. I wanted to hold them all in my arms. Planning for this trip saved me. I was thinking of something else; something healthier that I could look forward to. I loved travelling and organising trips. It would be Justin’s first time in Europe, too. He’d met my sister when she came over in April that year, and my parents after our wedding a couple of years previous. Now he was the one to come to my country, and I was happy for him to discover where I came from, my roots, and the place that made me who I was.

Three months later, in October, we went to Paris to see my twin sister for a week and visited the entire city. We enjoyed drinking beers at brasserie terraces, eating the delicious pastries, and walking everywhere. I showed him where I used to live and the places I used to go to when I lived there. Then we went to Nice, the city where I was born. It’s a beautiful small town on the French Riviera between Cannes and Monaco. We spent five days with my parents, visiting the surrounding old villages along the sea and savouring the local culinary specialties. I was revived. It was so good to show him my hometown and share all the things that I loved with him. He loved it, too.

We also went to Italy, as I’d always wanted to see Pisa, Firenze, and Roma, which was where Justin’s auntie lived. It was fantastic. I felt alive again. Justin and I were happy and loving each other like never before. The loss of our child had been painful and disturbing for both of us, and we each dealt with it in our own way. But in the end, we were still there, together. That romantic time in my country helped us get over it and brought us closer.

But I wanted to get pregnant again, quickly. Even if everyone around me was telling me to take my time, for me, there was no time to waste. I wanted to move forward, turn the page, and try again. I didn’t want to sit on this tragedy for too long.

I fell pregnant again when we got back from our wonderful trip in Europe. I was due exactly a year and one day after we lost our first baby. It would be our rainbow baby. We never would have been able to experience the joy they brought us if we’d had the first one, and somehow it was the only thing that helped me get over the loss of our baby angel.

2

So now here I am, on my third pregnancy, and I’m trying to do as little as possible, except at work. I’m a brand manager for three kitchen appliances brands in Australia, which means being under a lot of pressure and having crazy deadlines.

Three months ago, I’d discovered a small lump in my left armpit. My general practitioner said that maybe it was a swollen gland because of a cold. Though it started out small, it’s gotten so big and painful, that I have trouble closing my arm. I mean, who gets a swollen gland under their armpit due to a cold? When I try to make an appointment with my GP, they tell me their first opening is in two weeks, so I decide to go to the emergency room at St. George’s Hospital.

After waiting an hour, I’m examined by a doctor who seems quite worried and asks me a few questions while touching my armpits.

Did you lose weight, or have you been tired recently? he asks in a serious tone.

Really? I’m thirty weeks pregnant, and I look like a balloon, so of course, I’m tired. I do my best to smile at him. I’ve got a sixteen-month-old baby at home who always wants to be held and starts tantrums. And obviously I put on weight, not the other way around.

Though I’m laughing, his expression is so anxious, that I start to worry. I tell him what my GP told me about it being due to a cold, and he says they’ll have to do an ultrasound before they make any diagnosis.

I let him know I tried to get an ultrasound, but I couldn’t wait the two weeks it would take to see my GP, which was why I was here. I also ask if it could be breast cancer. The doctor says he can’t say what it is until they do a scan, so they will admit me to get the ultrasound done."

I tell my boss that I will work from my hospital bed and spend the day worrying. I don’t really need more problems. My auntie passed away from breast cancer when I was seventeen, and I know how hard it was for my cousins. I don’t want that for my kids.

By the end of the day, I have my ultrasound and get the results. Another doctor explains that I have three inflamed lymph nodes, and the biggest one is three-by-two centimetres. But to identify exactly what kind of infection it is, we need to do a biopsy. When I ask if they can do one immediately, they tell me that they require the consent of my obstetrician or GP, as the local anaesthesia could slow down the baby’s heart.

I’m devastated. Of course I don’t want to harm the baby, but I’m so desperate to know what this stupid golf-ball-sized lump is. I call my GP straight away for an appointment the next day. Unfortunately, he doesn’t want to make the decision and tells me to talk with the obstetrician.

The next morning, I’m back to work, but I can’t stop thinking of the worst-case scenario. My boss, who comes into my office to get some updates about our big brand launch event, sees my worried face and asks if everything is all right. I tell him what’s going on and how worried I am waiting for a diagnosis, and he tells me I just have to suck it up.

With this pregnancy I’ve already had thyroid issues, varicose veins, progesterone treatments, and thrush. I’m just hoping that after all this, the baby will be perfect.

para-break

I remember how hard my second pregnancy was. I had headaches, I was hot all the time, and above all…was crazy emotional. My due date was July 26, 2014, and I’d been working hard for a promotion that wasn’t coming as quickly as my boss had promised. Because, really, who gives a promotion to a pregnant lady in this man’s world? I was exhausted and driving Justin crazy with my anxiety. We told Justin’s dad, Stephen, and his partner, Belinda, on Christmas Eve, and they were super excited and happy for us.

During the first trimester, I was anxious something would go wrong after my first terrible experience, while Justin was pretty much in denial about the whole pregnancy. He was waiting for the thirteen-week ultrasound to acknowledge the baby in order to avoid another painful moment. I couldn’t deal with it and felt lonely. We argued a lot. Maybe we were both scared of becoming parents.

He wasn’t helping enough with the chores at home. I knew his work was demanding physically, but I couldn’t do everything by myself anymore, on top of my job. My main concern was that if he was like that now, how would we function with a baby? I couldn’t do it all by myself.

I started to get less worried only at the end of January, thirteen weeks in, when the ultrasound technician told us everything was fine with the baby. He had a brain, two arms and legs, and a beating heart, and that made me feel a little better. But my placenta was a bit low, so I had to limit my efforts until the next scan, six weeks later.

In February, we finally told everyone. Things were definitely getting better, and Justin was helping me around the house since I’d slowed down. We were also looking at buying a house for our family, but the auctions in Sydney were always about a hundred to two hundred thousand dollars higher than the market price our bank was willing to give us. Justin worked most Saturdays, so I had to visit houses by myself. After a couple of months of searching, my heart wasn’t in it anymore, so we tried to focus on the arrival of our baby.

I also had to start picking out a day care centre, because it was hard to get a position for a baby, and the