Losing the ability to have children would for many be the ultimate tragedy in a young person's battle with cancer. So here's some promising news: A transplant of ovarian tissue between sisters has shown to be successful, and the eggs have even been fertilized, though complications have caused a loss of the potential the pregnancies.

The transplantation of ovarian tissue between Teresa Alvaro and her sister, Sandra, is promising though the sisters were fortunate to share the same human leukocyte antigen (HLA), meaning that they wouldn't reject tissue from the other's body. Teresa lost ovarian function due to treatment of a blood disorder when she was 20, and preferred transplantation of ovarian tissue to donation of eggs, because she felt it was more natural.

For young women diagnosed with cancer, the disease is more than life-altering, it also sometimes dashes all hopes and dreams they might have had for the perfect marriage, the perfect career and the perfect foray into motherhood. It might seem impossible to have children after cancer, since treatment often seriously compromises a woman's chance at conceiving, but all hope's not lost. For instance, Hodgkin's survivors can get pregnant, according to a study, and women who've undergone chemo can freeze their eggs for fertilization.

And now it's being shown that a drug developed in Australia can give new hope to wannabe mothers. It works by shielding the ovaries from harmful cancer treatments by temporarily shutting them down, so to speak. The drug's been impressing doctors around the world, and honestly, I can't wait to see it hit the market and offer some salvation for young women from the horror that is cancer.

Besides preventing birth defects in the brain and spine and other congenital abnormalities, the folic acid found in prenatal multivitamins has now been shown to prevent cancer in children whose mothers take the vitamins during pregnancy.

A new Canadian study, appearing online in the journal Clinical Pharmacology & Therapeutics, estimates prenatal multivitamin supplements can save hundreds of children each year in Canada -- where only 40 to 50 percent of women take prenatal vitamins -- from developing leukemia, brain tumors, or neuroblastoma. And the vitamins may prevent 900 cases of pediatric leukemia and more than 300 brain tumor cases annually in the United States.

It's not clear which vitamins or minerals, and in what amounts, could be protecting babies from cancer, but it's possible folic acid -- critical for cellular function -- may be acting alone.

One thing is certain, says lead investigator Dr. Gideon Koren -- this is one inexpensive way to prevent cancer.

They are called DES daughters, and they are the women who mothers took the anti-miscarriage hormone drug DES during pregnancy. It is estimated that millions of pregnant women were given this drug between the 1940s and 1960s, and it's now been determined that the daughters born to these women have not only an increased risk of a rare vaginal cancer but also nearly double the chance of developing breast cancer.

This sad finding has been addressed before but now more than ever, DES daughters are urged to stick to a strict breast cancer screening schedule.

A news brief published in the February 2007 issue of Good Housekeeping boldly reminds all women to comply with government guidelines that call for mammograms for all women every one to two years starting at age 40 and every year after the age of 50. But it's a different story for women exposed in utero to DES.

"If you were exposed to DES, be sure to let your doctor know and have a mammogram ever year, even in your 40s," says Julie Palmer, lead researcher of the DES study.

Cancer-related fear once consumed my mind. Now it sits lodged in the back of my brain and only presents itself on rare occasions.

I handle my fears so much better now than when cancer was new and fresh and raw. My fears hardly ever cause me real anxiety, they don't cripple my mental functioning anymore, and more than ever, they serve to focus my efforts in life. When fear strikes, it's usually a wake-up call of sorts, a reminder to leave no stone unturned, a summons to keep on living.

Although so much less threatening than they once were, my fears still exist. And I like to review them once in awhile, lose myself in a little emotional housekeeping, tidy up some of the mess cancer made. I always feel better when things are in order -- fears included.

• I fear a breast cancer recurrence, the return of a tumor that rises to the surface of my skin and presents itself again underneath my fingertips -- or in my worst-case scenario is lost among dense breast tissue, undetected by self-exam, and caught too late by some combination of mammogram, ultrasound, and MRI.

• I fear more than anything another cancer -- something entirely different from breast cancer, something buried in my body and not as responsive as breast cancer to treatment. I am prepared for a second visit from breast cancer because I know how to proceed, know I will succumb to treatment that is familiar, know I will remove both breasts in the most radical of life-saving approaches. But cancer in my lungs, brain, bones, blood, ovaries is out of my realm. And these cancers -- among many others -- really scare me.
  

• I fear that my mom and my sister -- my first-degree female relatives -- will one day follow in my breast cancer footsteps. I once thought family history trickled down from above, from older family members. Now I know the disease can start with anyone. I am the anyone in my family. I am the reason my mom and sister are closely watched and monitored and tested. I am the one that put the fear of cancer into their hearts and minds -- and into mine.
  

• I fear having another baby. I fear the return of cancer during pregnancy, leaving me with difficult choices regarding my health and my baby's health. I fear cancer returning after a baby is born, leaving me with one more child and more treatment to manage. I fear another cancer would lead to a decreased chance of survival and another baby would leave my husband feeling stranded should I die too soon. And I fear having a baby girl who would inherit the very real chance of developing breast cancer at some time during her life.
  

• I fear not having another baby. I fear the regret I may feel one day, perhaps 50 years from now when I am healthy and cancer-free and without the child I longed for. I fear I am being overly cautious, too tentative, a bit selfish. A fellow cancer survivor once wrote me, "I learned that my family continues, even if I do not. I also learned that they are at least as tough as I am so will cope with the genes I pass to them and their own cancer battles if needed. Finally, I learned they look out for each other just as I looked out for them. No matter what your future, you will never regret giving another child a place in your family." I fear this man may be right.
  

• I fear dying at a young age. I fear leaving my children before they are grown. I fear leaving my husband a single parent, my mom someone who has lost a child, and my sister an only child. I have been told over and over again that my chances of survival are great, fantastic even. I have a 93 percent chance of not dying from breast cancer. This does seem great -- until I take into account that this percentage is good for only five years. My five years will expire when I am 39 years old. What happens then, I am not sure. The only thing I am sure about is that five years is not enough time. I want more, need more, demand more. Yet I fear my days may be numbered.
  

These are the fears that keep me focused. And while they are sometimes not-so-pleasant, I am in no hurry to resolve any of them. I am thankful really to have these fears swirling in my head -- because it means I am alive. And for me, being alive with fears is better than not being alive at all.

Carrying extra weight is a risk factor for developing breast cancer. But it's not been clear how the timing of weight gain affects this risk. Evidence is mounting, though, and it's now believed that weight gain in adult life is more predictive of breast cancer risk than absolute body weight.

A new study, published in December's International Journal of Cancer, reveals a link between gaining weight in adulthood and an increased risk of breast cancer after menopause.

"We did find some suggestion that weight gain during the 30s and 40s, weight gain since a woman's first pregnancy and weight gain since menopause, especially for women with a longer time since menopause, may all be of importance in relation to postmenopausal breast cancer risk," report the researchers who followed 1,166 women with breast cancer and 2,105 without the disease.

A 70 percent increased risk was found among postmenopausal women who gained more than 60 pounds between age 20 and the onset of menopause. This was in comparison to women who gained less than 20 pounds during the same period of time. Overall, there was a four percent increase in breast cancer risk for each 11-pound increase in adult weight.

Young women that receive a diagnosis of breast cancer are usually told to wait at least two years after treatment ends to try and conceive. This is because the longer the patient goes without a recurrence the better the chance that they will remain cancer free.

There are not many studies available to give physicians a good idea of how long women should wait to become pregnant after breast cancer. Is it safe? Some previous studies have suggested that becoming pregnant after breast cancer could provide a survival benefit.

Researchers from Western Australia wanted to investigate the effects of pregnancy after breast cancer. They looked at 123 women aged 15-44 who were diagnosed with breast cancer and had at least one pregnancy after their diagnoses.

There findings were as follows:

• Sixty two women, 50 percent, conceived within two years of their diagnoses.
• Twenty seven of these women gave birth.
• Women who became pregnant had improved overall survival compared with those who didn't.
• The protective effect was seen in women who waited at least six months to become pregnant.
• The protective effect was stronger in women who waited two years after treatment.

The authors of the study say that their evidence does not support the current medical advice given to premenopausal women diagnosed with breast cancer to wait two years before attempting to conceive. They also said this recommendation was for women with early stage disease. They concluded that early conception after completion of treatment is unlikely to adversely affect their survival.

Eugenia Calle, PhD, of the American Cancer Society believes that this study is too small for these researchers to claim to have answered the question about pregnancy and breast cancer. She says "I don't think that anyone believes that pregnancy, with its huge surge in hormones, will be in any way protective against breast cancer."

For women who are thinking of becoming pregnant after a diagnosis of breast cancer, talk to your doctor about the risks. I agree that the study seems too small to come up with any definite conclusions.

I've never had a problem with crying. My tears of joy and sorrow have always flowed easily, and I have never regretted shedding any one of them. I once told a college student I mentored who was hesitant to cry over a work-related scenario that I cry all the time. She later told me my confession sticks in her mind -- my ability and willingness to cry freely, without reservation. I told her I consider crying a cleansing, therapeutic process. I told her that I always feel replenished after a good cry. And I still believe this, years and years after my encounter with this student.

I cried just a few days ago while talking to my doctor and then my mom about how cancer may prevent me from having another child, if not physically, then emotionally. I just don't know if I could peacefully experience a pregnancy with the fear of cancer recurrence. And this makes me cry. Because I want another child. But I don't think I will have one. I cried at my oncologist appointment the other day while talking about the death of a friend. I cry while reading certain books and while watching sad movies and television shows. Two nights ago, I cried while watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, about a breast cancer survivor. I cry when recalling the births of my babies and while marveling at my little growing boys. And I know I will cry when I read a journal a friend just shared with me, written by his uncle who lost a daughter to brain cancer.

Tears cleanse my soul. And sometimes, they complicate matters. They make me wonder how well I am, two years after my cancer diagnosis. I interpret my tears now more than ever, in an effort to determine how well I am coping with life in survival mode. I wonder if the tears that frequently well up in my eyes are normal or if they are indicative of the depression that prompted my oncologist to prescribe an anti-depressant. I consider that perhaps I should be better able to handle some topics, some situations, some tough experiences without becoming weepy. And I also realize that perhaps my tears are completely normal, that I could be ultra sensitive to my every emotion, that as long as I feel happy and function easily, I am just fine.

I plan to iron all this out at my next and final counseling session that I need to schedule. This closing session will allow me to wrap up two year's worth of cancer issues, to close one chapter of my life and begin another. I just need to make the appointment. Which I have yet to do. Because contemplating the end of something so healing seems so daunting. And for better or for worse, this makes me cry.

Glamour editor and leukemia cancer survivor Erin Zammett Ruddy blogs Life with Cancer and is the author of My (So-Called) Normal Life. Five years ago, at the age of 23, Erin was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). Immediately after her cancer diagnosis, Erin began chronicling her life with cancer in a monthly Life with Cancer column for Glamour magazine. Recently, she has launched a blog after the same name as her column.

"I am excited to be starting my blog for Glamour. I am going to be talking about whatever it is I am feeling about that particular day.

I hope to hear from readers that instead of being a patient or a victim -- it's something like I have this disease, what can I do with it -- how can I help other people.

Do I wish I didn't have cancer? Yes, but I wouldn't trade my life right now for anything and that life includes cancer."

While Erin is new to blogging, she is not new to writing, and she is an excellent writer. Frank, serious, open, vulnerable, and bouyant with a delightful sense of humor, her writing makes for a blog that is difficult to leave until you have read every post. Erin takes Gleevac, and in order to have a baby she will need to stop taking the drug that keeps her in cancer remission. She is very honest in sharing the anxiety and anticipation of making this choice.

From the blog, you can access the monthly column Erin writes for Glamour magazine. One of the most recent features an interview with MTV's Real World/Road Rules Challenge: Fresh Meat Diem Brown, a 25-year-old woman currently battling ovarian cancer. After hearing about Diem, and watching her on the reality show, Erin was intrigued to meet her. As a result of the time the two spent together, and sharing stories with Diem, Erin was inspired to stay positive in the midst of uncertainty.

Erin Zammett Ruddy is a phenomenal woman with a terrific attitude, and a blog we are glad she keeps.

I have a new friend who is a new breast cancer survivor. She is surviving a new diagnosis, a recent lumpectomy, and the moments leading up to another surgery to further investigate the margins surrounding the tumor removed from her breast. She is surviving the first phase of her breast cancer journey. A phase full of uncertainty and fear and panic. A phase so new and so fresh and so raw, her mind is whirling. A phase that has her grasping for any bit of direction she can find as she navigates a terrifying, unfamiliar road.

My friend is a young wife and mother whose worries are consuming her. She e-mailed me today and asked if I ever have moments when I look at my young children and worry that cancer will take me from them while they are young. She asked if I have always been so sure I will be okay. And so I replied with this candid cancer confession.

There are various risk factors that can contribute to the development of breast cancer. Being female is the single biggest risk factor that on its own puts all women in jeopardy. But there are other risks -- many beyond our control and some more significant than others -- that can help explain why some women are diagnosed with the most common cancer in women in the United States. And why others are not.

When a question or concern or worry related to breast cancer pops into my head, I typically find myself parked in front of my computer in search of instant answers, instant comfort, instant wisdom. There are several different websites I consult -- each one different from the others, each one complementing the others. They are my reference tools, my handbooks, my encyclopedias. They offer me a clear picture of a confusing, cloudy disease. And here they are -- seven super websites that have been become staples in my life.

Fighting for Our Future:How Young Women Find Strength, Hope, and Courage While Taking Control of Breast Cancer. Beth Murphy spent two years studing young women with breast cancer and her book gives young women a valuable resource.

Fighting for Our Future talks about many issues related specifically to women under forty diagnosed with breast cancer. Some of this issues are fertility, pregnancy, negotiating treatment, living with the illness, sexuality and dating. It reaches out to the newly diagnosed and those living with metastatic disease to all in between.

Breast Cancer patients tell their own stories throughout sections of the book. They decribe treatment and procedures and give the real information that the young women need to know.