When Joy and Heartbreak Collide: A Caregiver's Journey through Love, Pregnancy, and Cancer

Written by Julie Woon, MSJ

In this powerful interview from the YMyHealth podcast, Jen French shares her experience as both an expectant mother and caregiver to her wife Kirsten, who was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer at age 32. Their story highlights the challenges young people face with colorectal cancer, the importance of advocacy in healthcare, and finding hope amid profound loss.

About Jen French

Jen French's wife Kirsten was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer in April 2021. On the same day Kirsten was diagnosed, Jen discovered she was pregnant with their daughter after a year of infertility struggles. Kirsten had no obvious signs or symptoms leading up to her diagnosis, and just three days before being diagnosed, she was told at urgent care that she simply had a UTI. After biomarker testing, Kirsten's cancer was identified as KRAS G12V TP53R175H MSS. She achieved NED (No Evidence of Disease) status from December 2021 to October 2022 before the cancer recurred in her bones. After fighting bravely for 2.5 years, Kirsten passed away in December 2023, just nine days before their daughter's second birthday.

Q: What was your understanding or knowledge of colorectal cancer before your wife's diagnosis?

A: To be honest, my knowledge was 0%. There was no knowledge on my end, and on my wife's end as well. There's just not enough awareness for people in our age group, which I think is scary. But I think as time has gone on, more people are opening their eyes to what's actually happening.

Q: Can you walk us through the moment you found out about your wife's diagnosis?

A: We had gotten married in 2019 and knew we wanted to have a child. After COVID put our fertility treatments on pause through 2020, we tried for about six to eight months. On the day I found out I was pregnant, I put together a surprise box for Kirsten. Within two hours of sharing this joyful news, I was rushing her to the ER because she was in debilitating pain and couldn't stand up straight.

The ultrasound revealed a grapefruit-sized tumor on her right ovary. Initially, doctors were hopeful it was a fibroid, but cancer marker testing suggested otherwise. Between telling her I was pregnant and finding out she had cancer within five hours was terrifying. I thought there was no way the baby would survive with the emotional toll this would put on my body.

Q: Did Kirsten have symptoms leading up to her diagnosis?

A: Looking back, there were a few scattered signs. On a trip shortly before her diagnosis, she complained that coffee was bothering her stomach. By the time we went to the ER, she was in severe pain and had been peeing blood, which we thought might just be a UTI.

In retrospect, there were subtle signs—like when she doubled over in pain after eating on Thanksgiving the prior year—but nothing that would have made us think cancer. She was tired a lot, but we attributed that to her demanding job and the stress of fertility treatments. There was really nothing jarring that would have alerted us she had cancer.

Q: How did you process receiving this news while also learning you were pregnant?

A: I was freaking out. I'm somebody that always thinks worst-case scenario, and my first thought was, "Oh my God, I'm about to have a baby, and I'm about to have it alone." But my wife was so positive. She'd say, "We got this. We're going to figure this out."

I couldn't be the person I naturally wanted to be—panicking about what might happen next. I had to put those feelings aside and put on a strong face for her while trying not to be so stressed that the baby wouldn't survive. I was terrified every day but tried not to show it.

Q: How did you balance being a caregiver to your wife while also caregiving for your unborn child?

A: You go into fight or flight mode and just push through each day. As my dad said, I had to put one foot in front of the other while simultaneously being terrified. I did what I had to do because I loved her so much.

Part of me was like, "Please let this baby survive so that my wife has hope." I truly feel like our child was the reason Kirsten was able to reach NED status—she fought so hard because she wanted that baby so badly. Caregiving was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I wouldn't change anything. I was meant to do that for her.

Jen (left) and Kirsten (right) on their first Christmas as a family of three in December 2021.

Q: How did you and Kirsten maintain your relationship during her treatment?

A: That was hard. We went from being newlyweds about to start a family to having this "third person"—cancer—that was constantly part of our conversation. I became a caretaker, and she was the patient.

Learning to love each other through this new challenge was difficult because deep down, we were both thinking and feeling things we didn't want to burden the other with. We were really honest with each other, but I think we both held back to protect each other.

When she went into remission, we said, "This is our time to live!" Simple arguments became null and void. We gained perspective—even today, when things happen in my life, I think, "This is so trivial compared to the fact that we're all alive and breathing." As difficult as the experience was, that's the gift it gave us: the ability to really enjoy the small moments.

 Q: Were there resources available to you as a same-sex couple going through cancer with a pregnancy?

A: There was nothing. There are still limited resources, though it's getting better with organizations like Cheeky Charity. I felt like I was the only lesbian going through colon cancer at our age. That's why I'm more open with our story now—if I can help somebody during a time like that, when I wish I would have had support, then great.

Even when resources existed, they were for much older people who couldn't relate to having a young child or being young ourselves. We would sit in the doctor's office and look around thinking, "How are we the youngest people here?" We literally just had to figure it out ourselves, searching Instagram hashtags hoping to find someone to relate to.

Q: Did you ever experience different treatment because you were part of the LGBTQ+ community?

A: That was always a slippery slope. We would gauge the physician and audience to decide how to approach it, wondering if we'd be treated differently. Her oncologist was great—always very sweet and respectful of our relationship.

But it was hard because anytime we'd walk into a room together, the first thing people would say is, "Is that your sister?" Even when she was put on hospice, nurses would immediately talk to her parents instead of me, her wife. If I was a man married to her, they would know to talk to me first. There was always this assumption that I was a friend or sister.

Q: What advice would you give to others about understanding cancer genetics and biomarker testing?

A: When they first did genetic testing and told us hers wasn't genetic, I barely understood what they were telling us. When things are going according to plan, you don't worry about it much. But when things start going wrong and there aren't answers, you realize you need more information.

When they eventually said they had no more chemotherapy options and needed to look at clinical trials, they did additional biomarker testing to see what she would qualify for. There's so much information that I wish I had known to research thoroughly when she was in remission. Clinical trials might be six months away, and that's not something we ever knew.

When you reach the point where they say, "We have no other options, here's a clinical trial," you're suddenly on crunch time. I try not to be hard on myself—you're doing the best you can—but I wish I'd known more about biomarkers earlier.

Jen French in her strong arm selfie standing in the midst of the flag installation at the 2025 Fight CRC Call-on Congress event in Washington, DC. Jen is a member of the 2025 Fight CRC Ambassador class, who serve to spread CRC awareness and education nationwide.

Q: What do you know now about colorectal cancer that you wish you knew then?

A: I tell everyone I know to get screened. If you have any symptoms—constipation, blood in your stool, whatever it may be—get checked. And if you get a "no" from a physician, try another one. Keep trying until you get your "yes."

Three days before Kirsten was diagnosed, she was told she had a UTI and to take Azo. Her stool test came back clear. Everything appeared normal. So I tell people: keep pushing. It can be uncomfortable to challenge a doctor, but if you feel something's wrong with your body, don't just accept a diagnosis of irritable bowel syndrome.

You have to keep going until you can get a colonoscopy or scan or testing. I tell anybody my age that you are never too young. They say Kirsten's cancer was probably in her body for 10 years before diagnosis, and there's no way we would have found out without a colonoscopy. It didn't run in her family.

When people say they're afraid to get a colonoscopy, I tell them if they'd seen what Kirsten went through for two and a half years, they wouldn't be afraid. A colonoscopy is much easier than what she experienced.

Q: How has becoming a mother during this journey shaped your perspective on life and love?

A: It's bittersweet. When you go through such a tragic event, you black out a lot of things. I barely remember my pregnancy or my daughter's first year while I was grieving. I feel guilty that I may not have been the mother I could have been because of what we've been through.

I think of my little girl's heart and it breaks me to know she'll never know who her mom was. All I can give her are videos and pictures. Every day, as hard as it is being a solo parent, I'm grateful for this gift, but I'm also terrified of losing her too. I'm in a constant state of fear when she gets sick, wondering if she has cancer.

We buy flowers every week for Kirsten's urn, and my daughter says, "Mommy, I want to get flowers for Mommy Kir." When we see butterflies or balloons (we send off balloons on her birthday), we've made Kirsten as much a part of our family's life as possible. Kirsten was big on celebrations and going all out, so I try my best to honor what she would want.

Q: What final wisdom would you like to share with listeners?

A: Kirsten and my dad would always say, "Go live your life. Don't wait. Take the trip. Take the time." You always think you're going to have time, but you may not. Say yes to experiences—what's holding us back is ourselves.

They filled Kirsten's desk the day after she died, even though she had given everything to her company. It's a business, and it moves on. Sometimes you have to take a step back and see the bigger picture. We have everything we've hoped for—do all the things and let the little things go.

Want to hear our conversation with Jen French and others? Check out the YMyHealth podcast!