I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer shortly after my son's birth. 13 years later, I'm still here.

• Elizabeth O'Connor was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer soon after giving birth.
• Very few people with late-stage pancreatic cancer are still alive a year after their diagnosis.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Elizabeth O'Connor. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I learned that I had stage 4 pancreatic cancer shortly after my son, Andrew, was born. I was 33 years old.

It should've been one of the happiest times of my life. Instead, it felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

I heard the words "pancreatic cancer" and immediately thought there was no hope. The prognosis wasn't good. I later found out that very few patients diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer live beyond a year.

I was mad and depressed. I thought, "Why me?" and "Am I going to see my kids grow up? Probably not."

But 12 years on, I'm still here. A combination of cutting-edge treatments and research has kept me going. A lot of it has been funded by the nonprofit Stand Up To Cancer. It might not happen in my lifetime, but I'm convinced a cure for cancer is within reach.

My OB-GYN discovered large cysts on my ovaries when I was pregnant

My symptoms started in midpregnancy. I started feeling really tired. I was nauseous all the time and would sometimes throw up. But at that time I thought it was pregnancy-related.

I saw my OB-GYN, who ordered an ultrasound to see what was going on. They discovered huge cysts on my ovaries at 28 weeks pregnant. They'd have to wait until I'd given birth to remove them. I saw a specialist. But at no point did I think it was cancer.

My weight kept dipping because I couldn't eat due to the nausea. They gave me fluids at the hospital when I was 34 weeks pregnant as an outpatient. But I went into labor that same day.

Andrew was born six weeks premature via C-section. He was in the NICU for a week.

On the day of Andrew's birth, my doctor would say only that my ovaries had looked "really angry" during the surgery. The following day, he recommended a hysterectomy.

I was devastated. I'd always wanted a third child. The doctor said, "If it were my wife, I would want her to have the hysterectomy." Things also didn't look good because I had fluid in my lungs and abdomen. I said, "OK, go ahead."

The results of the biopsy on my ovaries arrived. They did a CT scan. "We see a tumor on your pancreas," the oncologist said. He said the cancer had metastasized to my ovaries and one of my hip bones. It was stage 4. A doctor friend who worked at a cancer center spoke gently to me and my husband, Patrick, about palliative care.

My biggest fear was that my oncologist would tell me I had only four months or so to live. Actually, he told me the exact opposite. "No one holds a crystal ball to your life," he said.

It put a fire under me. I thought, let's just get started on chemotherapy and see where we go.

I've had several recurrences over the years

I had targeted chemotherapy, which shrank the tumor. It was successful enough to allow me to have radiation and surgery.

By April 2013 the doctors said I was a rare exception among pancreatic-cancer patients in terms of responding to treatment.

Things seemed OK until November 2014, around the time of Andrew's second birthday. They found cancer in my brain. It was another punch to the gut. Thankfully, the location of the tumor meant I could have surgery and radiation.

I've had multiple recurrences over the years. We treat life as it comes. Patrick has been amazing. My daughter, now 17, has become very independent; she's had to be. Andrew, now 12, is a worrywart. I've been treated out of town in states as far away as North Carolina, Wisconsin, and Arizona.

2020 was difficult because the cancer returned to my brain. There was inflammation, and unlike in 2014, the tumor's position made it inoperable. This time I was treated with a form of immunotherapy developed by researchers funded by Stand Up To Cancer. It has worked like a miracle, and the tumor has shrunk.

These days I have so much more energy. I can take Andrew to baseball practice and enjoy the long summer days. Even being able to do the cooking and laundry by myself feels good.

I've faced plenty of obstacles along the way

I've kept having regular scans. Nothing has shown up on my chest, abdomen, and pelvis for several years now. The doctors and researchers keep saying, "We're getting to the next best thing for you."

There have been plenty of obstacles. But I refuse to let them get in my way. The doctors have said that I'm stable. "Stable" is a good word when you have cancer.

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