MY LIFE Matters - Spring 2024 - 5

A MOTHER'S PERSPECTIVE Empowering the Next Generation
I still remember how my mind went
numb and I couldn't make sense of anything.
The one thing that drenched every
fiber of my being were these two burning
questions: " How do I tell my babies? " " Will
I be alive to see them grow up? "
I know many of you have been here before-some
are just arriving here now-
and it's overwhelming and terrifying.
Balancing your own grief and the big
emotions of your little (or not so little)
ones can be one of the hardest parts of
this life-long diagnosis.
After I heard that I would be getting
chemo for my stage III, highly aggressive
breast cancer, I knew what I had to do. I
knew that I didn't want to repeat some of
the things I had experienced and seen in
my Caribbean culture when it comes to
sicknesses. Many minority cultures tend to
stay silent when it comes to speaking out
about our health diagnosis, and it can be
detrimental if we don't know our family
history and risks. So, I decided that with a
lot of prayer, grace, and patience, I would
begin sharing my diagnosis with my children.
I would try to be open and honest,
and use this as a way of empowering us,
rather than a time of crippling fear.
It's
not always easy (it rarely is), but it's been
so worth it. I remember taking my children
to see a therapist. I didn't know if it
would help since they were only three and
eight years old, but it was worth the try.
During that time, my three-year-old
PHOTOS: Bridgett Lee Creative
I
can still remember the soft sunlight bathing my kitchen on the morning
that I was told those three words no one wants to hear: " You have
cancer. "
My mind went numb, but a small voice jolted me back to reality
as I hung up the phone on that life-changing call. I barely heard
the scream coming from my lips and felt the hot tears that were
soaking my cheeks.
My son stood in front of me, his eyes filled with worry and
questions poured from his furrowed brows. " Mom, what's wrong? You're crying. " I
didn't even know I was crying until I heard his voice.
My children always bring me back to myself, my purpose, and my calling. I heard
myself tell the first and last lie I've ever told my kids, " I stubbed my toe, love! Mama
will be OK! " I could tell that he wasn't buying it, but it was 8:00 a.m. on a Thursday
morning and his school bus had just pulled up to our home.
" I'll be fine, love, " I said while still wiping tears from my eyes. We hurried out the
door and I gave him a kiss and hug like it was the first time holding his eight-year-old
body. My three-year-old daughter Daniella was playing contentedly, and then got a
rare treat of some unexpected screen time when I went to tell the news to my partner
at the time, her dad.
daughter Dani started to play " funeral "
with her dolls. I remember those who
looked after her would text me concerned.
I definitely thought I was failing
my child! I reached out to her therapist
who reassured me that this was her way
of processing her thoughts and feelings.
My daughter was a lot more upfront and
vocal about how my diagnosis impacted
her, and wanted to talk through it, while
my son liked to slowly process and ask
deeper questions.
My daughter would sometimes place
both of her little hands on my face and
look me straight in the eyes and say, " I am
so glad you're not dead yet, Mommy! " The
first time she said it, it took me aback, but
after a while I started to answer her, " Me
too, Dani girl. Me too. " It was real and
open, and I always want her to feel that
she can be those two things with me. But
MY LIFE MATTERS
EMPOWERED | SPRING 2024
5
MY LIFE Matters - Spring 2024

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