The world went silent the moment the doctor uttered the words, “Unfortunately, you have breast cancer.” The bird’s singing, the doctor’s voice, even the feeling of my own body—all vanished into a thick fog of shock. It was strange, this feeling. A part of me, ever since finding the lump, had known something was wrong. The day at the mammogram clinic, watching women leave one by one while I remained for endless tests, solidified that suspicion. Even without explicit words, I knew something sinister lurked beneath the surface. 

But the moment that call came, the weight of that knowledge morphed into a different kind of terror. It was the dawning realization that motherhood, as I knew it, would be forever altered.  

Before the diagnosis, motherhood was a meticulous symphony I conducted. As a dedicated mom to young children, I reveled in crafting their world. Every experience, from park playdates to cozy bedtime stories, was curated for maximum positivity and safety down to the last detail. Years of planning culminated in this vision—a childhood bathed in sunshine and laughter. The thought of a scraped knee or a bad dream felt manageable, mere blips in an otherwise idyllic world. It never crossed my mind that a disease could swoop in, shattering my control.

Breast Cancer became the conductor, forcing me to relinquish the baton and watch as it orchestrated a far scarier reality for my children and me. This journey, far from the picture-perfect childhood I envisioned, would be laced with a guilt so heavy it threatened to suffocate me. The guilt of not giving my three little ones the experience they deserved, the fear of passing on this monstrous disease, the specter of them living with a “sick mom,” a constant source of worry. 

Six years as a breast cancer survivor have granted me perspective. My fears were valid. Life did change.

My children’s experiences were altered; I missed events, I was the “sick mom,” and they grappled with the specter of the disease. Yet, amidst this upheaval, a powerful spirit of resilience bloomed within them. In moments where I saw weakness, resilience peeked through. This horrific disease, ironically, became the unlikely teacher, showing them the power of bouncing back. They learned that life, like the weather, has its storms. It’s okay to feel down, but the key is to always get back up. My “mommy guilt” transformed. It wasn’t about the unfairness anymore; it became a platform to demonstrate resilience in various forms. I showed them the unexpected creativity life throws your way, the importance of taking things one day at a time, and the strength in picking yourself up and moving forward, even when getting out of bed feels like a monumental task. 

Yes, my diagnosis was devastating. But the power of resilience that blossomed within my children is a constant source of gratitude. I know, with unwavering certainty, that they possess the compassion and strength to tackle any challenge life throws their way. My journey with breast cancer might not have been the path I envisioned for our family, but it instilled an invaluable strength in my children. Witnessing my resilience has equipped them to face life’s challenges head-on. They may not have had a picture-perfect life free from fear, but I’ve given them the greatest gift of all – the ability to bounce back and keep going, a skill they’ll surely need to navigate life’s inevitable obstacles. As for myself, resilience is a practice, a daily commitment. It’s in the quiet moments of self-care, the walks in nature that clear my head, the gratitude journaling that reminds me of all the good in my life. It’s in seeking support from loved ones and prioritizing a healthy lifestyle that fuels my body and spirit. It’s in the unwavering belief that even when storms rage, the sun will rise again. 

How do you practice resilience in your life? What challenges have taught you the most about bouncing back?