Somewhere nearby, 15 frozen eggs—tiny promises to myself and my future—sit waiting for the day when I know what I want. For the day when I can say I’m in remission, when I am brave enough to embark on the journey of motherhood—even if it will always carry with it the potential of cancer recurring. My partner and I don’t discuss it, and I don’t think of it often. I’m too busy now fighting through radiation and chemo and believing in my body’s ability to recover.