September is childhood cancer awareness month, but to me, it should be a cause that we fight for every single day throughout the entire year. The magnitude of what these kids go through demands our unwavering dedication. I never, in a million years, could have imagined hearing those devastating words, “Your child has cancer.” Yet, like countless other parents, I did. Those four words completely altered the course of my life, leading me down the darkest path imaginable, a path where my beloved son did not survive. And somehow, amidst the depths of that despair, I find myself still standing. It’s a constant source of wonder that I’ve managed to endure.
I would have given anything to trade places with my child to spare him from the pain and suffering he endured. I would have done absolutely anything to save his precious life. The trauma surrounding the death of my child is something I carry with me every single day. It’s a weight that never lightens, a burden that never fades, no matter how much people may wish to believe otherwise. Their truth may be one of moving on, but it is not my truth. They were mere bystanders in this nightmare that I am forced to relive over and over again.
My heart breaks for the person I used to be before this nightmare. There are moments when I find myself crying in the solitude of my car, overwhelmed by the pain that my twins and Woody will carry with them forever. I refuse to conceal my tears from Poppy when I pick her up from school. She often shares the heartfelt words she has written about our family, proudly including her THREE brothers. During the days that I am making my tenth edit to a chapter in my book, I often have to stop so I can throw up. As I lay down to sleep, I know my sobs will be met with a gentle touch, providing solace in the darkness. I worry that I will no longer be able to hear Ronan’s tiny giggles or the way he always smelled like laundry combined with freshly cut grass. Each time I come across another child diagnosed with cancer or another one who has died, my stomach plummets to the floor. The burden of other parents’ anguish becomes my own, especially on the anniversaries of their child’s passing or the birthdays that should have been joyous occasions.
Childhood cancer is the source of this immeasurable heartache, and it shouldn’t be a death sentence in today’s world, considering the abundance of billionaires, groundbreaking scientific advancements, and access to exceptional doctors. I know the faces of those doctors who are tirelessly striving to change this reality, and I am filled with immense gratitude towards them. I am so grateful to them, but I worry it’s not fast enough. Childhood cancer is the number one disease killer of children, and it will be the same tomorrow and the next day and the next day and for all the days until we find a cure.
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