A MOTHER’S GREATEST FEAR

 The day I received the news of my daughter’s breast cancer my entire life changed forever as her mother.  I thought my heart had stopped as my greatest fear became a stark reality.  Immediately I was consumed with thoughts of her death.  My mind wouldn’t allow me to think about anything else.  The very thought of losing Christina haunted me every moment of every day and I broke down in tears at every turn.  My spirit was broken, and my heart was crushed beneath the weight of the tragic news, and I wondered just how it was affecting her. 

As her mother I had already dealt with almost losing her through the years as a result of her diabetes.  The first time was when she was originally diagnosed with it at age 8, and we almost lost her then.  And there were numerous other times, all diabetes related.   But this diagnosis, the “BREAST CANCER,” well it was far greater a fear than I could have ever imagined, and I was really afraid—afraid for Christina, afraid for my grandsons, afraid for her dad and her husband, and afraid for myself.

Now fear is a terrible thing!  It’s like a monster—one that thrives on eating you alive mentally, physically and emotionally; and it certainly fed well on me.  To put it another way—it never went hungry.  In fact it drove me to the place of pure panic, near insanity, a state wherein I needed to see Christina and speak with her without fail.  I also needed to be comforted by knowing that she was still with me every moment of every day.  I desperately needed to be her caretaker and to be all she needed me to be for her.  I needed assurance, assurance at every moment that she was still alive.  And my needs for needing just kept growing and growing all the time it seemed.  It became a never-ending cycle.  And it never ended.  I became the most needy person alive.  If there had been a prize for needing, I would have taken first place.

And oh, the sentimental journeys—how many have I taken so far?  Can’t really say.  There are too many to count.  Besides we haven’t finished yet.  Those precious memories of the past constantly brought me back to the early years of Christina’s life when I could pick her up in my arms and hold her ever so closely to me.  The special times as an infant when I would hold her up against my chest and feel her breath on my neck.  I wanted with all my heart to be able to hold her like that once again, but I couldn’t.  Those times were past and I wished I could go back.  Instead of holding to the past, I was left with the present so I held her hand at every opportunity, hugged her bunches and bunches, kissed her cheeks over and over again, loved her with my entire being and then somehow began stumbling along in the dark through this crisis directly beside her every step of the way.

But there were times when I felt all alone too, unable to go on—times when I was away from her and didn’t want to be—like when I had to go home at night and cried for hours till I fell asleep or when I was at the grocery store, the pharmacy, or any number of other places.  These were the times I would find myself crying and sharing with anyone who would listen, even complete strangers as they stood there listening whether they wanted to or not.  What else could they do?

“Cancer, cancer, cancer!”  That awful word kept hounding me.  It wouldn’t leave me alone.  I was too weak to fight it so much of the time, and I hated it.  I hated the word and I hated cancer.  I didn’t want to think about CANCER because I didn’t want to think about burying my own child.  At times, I didn’t want to think about anything at all in hopes I could forget about everything.  I wanted to believe it was just a nightmare.  Surely I would wake up and everything would be fine.  But oh no!  I only woke up to find out that this really was a nightmare after all—a living nightmare. 

So…..being strong was no easy task for me.  But I had no choice.  I had to master this—not only for the sake of my precious daughter, but also for my grandsons and for myself.  I was no good to anyone otherwise.  So I learned to take life one day or maybe even one moment at a time, and I gradually became more able to cope which allowed me to help Christina more and, enabled me to be there for my grandsons as well.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I still had and still do to this very day have my moments of weakness when I feel helpless because of my strong desire to have complete control over this situation.  Of course, if I could be in control or in charge, this entire scenario would be totally different.  Christina wouldn’t have breast cancer or any other kind of cancer for that matter.  She’d be in perfect health, and that would be that!  But, unfortunately, I’m not in control, and furthermore, I can’t be in control.  That’s where I’ve had to learn to put my trust in God and to put Christina in His hands.  It’s a decision I have to make each and every day, over and over and over again.

I love my daughter with every part of my being.  She is flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood and bone of my bone, so she will always be my daughter and my little girl no matter what her age might be.  There is absolutely nothing that can or will ever change that!  She is my very special blessing from above, and I will never take her life or her love for granted.  I thank God every day for giving her to me.  My prayer for her is that she will live a very long, happy, and healthy life—one that will allow her to fulfill all her dreams and to be granted the ability to love and raise her children, see them through college, be there when they marry and have children of their own, to enjoy being a grandmother and live to a ripe old age along with her husband, her grandchildren and maybe even her great grandchildren.  “Now that’s not too much to ask, is it?  Do you hear me God?  Just checking.”

And so, to sum it all up, I gladly press forward, hand in hand with Christina, as we boldly walk together into this raging battle that she faces each and every day.  I am so thankful for her life, proud of how far she has come, proud of her courage and strength, proud of her ability to endure all that has been thrown her way, and proud of all she has gone through without complaint.  As a mother I am crushed that this breast cancer had to touch her life at all, and I’ll be there to lift her up if she should fall, but I’ll be praying continually that she will continue to be a “SURVIVOR” and that she’ll live to a happy and healthy ripe, old age.

Patty