What followed was a whirlwind of medical appointments—biopsies, MRIs, ultrasounds, oncologist meetings, obstetrician consultations. Everything changed. Our focus shifted from baby showers and prenatal vitamins to chemotherapy schedules, blood counts, and risk assessments. After weighing the options with her medical team, she made a decision that no mother should ever be forced to make: to begin chemotherapy while still pregnant. It was the only way to give both herself and her unborn child the best possible chance.
Watching her walk into the hospital, round belly showing beneath her coat, and sit down for her first chemo infusion was one of the hardest moments of my life. I saw a different kind of strength in her that day—one I hadn’t fully recognized before. The kind of strength that chooses to fight not only for yourself but for the life growing inside you. Every week, the treatment drained her more. Her energy faded. Her beautiful hair began to fall. Her skin paled. She often felt sick, exhausted, and overwhelmed. But through it all, she never once let go of hope. In fact, she held onto it more tightly than ever.
As her mother, it broke my heart to see her in pain and not be able to fix it. I couldn’t stop the chemo from making her sick. I couldn’t ease her fear. I couldn’t promise that everything would be okay, even though I wanted to more than anything. But I could be there. I could sit beside her during treatments, hold her hand when she cried, brush her hair gently as it thinned, and whisper words of comfort in the quiet moments when everything felt too heavy. I learned that sometimes, presence is the most powerful gift we can give—being there when everything hurts, loving someone through the storm.Continue reading…
