Kaz Foncette
On 2nd May 2017, just one day after celebrating our sixth wedding anniversary, my world split in two. At 31, my husband and I were planning Glastonbury in a few weeks, dreaming of holidays, and when to start a family. Then came the words that changed everything: “You have breast cancer.”
I prepared myself for the obvious, the hair loss, the sickness, the endless appointments. What I didn’t expect was losing my sense of self. Treatment drained my energy, changed my face, and stripped away the confidence I had carried for so long. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t recognise the hollow-eyed woman staring back.
In that darkness, I found a lifeline in fashion. A bright headscarf, a pair of bold earrings, a jacket that felt like armour, small acts of defiance that reminded me I was still me. But different.
Sharing my journey online started as therapy, but it resonated far beyond what I imagined. I became what I call an “accidental influencer,” an advocate raising awareness and helping others navigate the storm. In helping them, I slowly began to heal myself.
But cancer wasn’t finished with me. In October 2019, during my second diagnosis, my treatment stopped abruptly when my heart began to fail. A dangerously low ejection fraction left me living with heart failure, on lifelong medication, and hearing the words I’d feared most. I might never carry a child. Even though I had preserved embryos, it felt like hope had been stolen all over again.
Still, I kept going. Turning my pain into purpose by creating The Heroes Haven in 2024, a charity boutique and cancer support centre where people could feel seen, celebrated, and supported.
After years of healing and careful planning, heart medication dose reductions, my husband and I turned to IVF. On 13th February 2024, after our second round, we heard the words I once thought impossible: “You’re pregnant.” Every heartbeat, mine and my baby’s, felt like a hard-won miracle. And in October 2024 we welcomed our son Atlas.
Cancer, heart failure & fertility struggles. None define me but all have shaped me. Survival, I’ve learnt, isn’t just about treatment. It’s about hope, identity & holding on to who you are when everything else is stripped away.