Coping with cancer and small kids
Cuddles fix everything! Wearing a mask whenever the kids were even slightly ill.
Our twins were just three when I was diagnosed with breast cancer. My biggest fear was - and still is - not seeing them grow up.
From early on , we made the decision to be honest and keep them involved in what was going on. Even though they were so little, we just adapted our language to suit their age.
“Mummy has bugs in her boobies and the doctor needs to remove them. So Mummy won’t be able to cuddle you for a little while.”
“Mummy is going to need some special treatment and it will make her lose her hair. So she’s going to shave it off first. Do you want to come to the hairdresser? ”
“Mummy’s special treatment makes her feel very tired so Daddy is going to look after you and you’re going to have lots of play dates.”
We deliberately chose to use the words ‘special treatment’ rather than chemo or medicine. As we didn’t want them to start fearing medicine or doctors - or think that a harmless paracetamol would make their hair fall out.
The kids were honestly amazing. I know they didn’t completely understand. And they definitely didn’t like my bald head. But they still kissed it every night to ‘help the hair grow back’. Luckily my husband is bald too - so it’s pretty normal in our house for mummies and daddies to have no hair.
Chemo is the longest we’ve been together as a family as my husband works away.
We made the decision that my husband’s role would be to focus on them and keep their lives as normal as possible. Luckily his work gave him unpaid leave for 3 months to cover my hard core chemo. I don’t know how we would have managed otherwise, as we live overseas from our families and he works away half the year.
So my amazing friends stepped up to support us. They were incredible. Each chemo cycle, I would ask someone to come and babysit me. While my husband took the kids out on adventures. Until day 4, I didn’t want to be on my own in case I felt weird. But I also really struggled with the noise and mess and hectic-ness of everyone being in the house.
It was hard. But we got through it. I won’t lie, there were a few times when I had to dig really deep. When I dragged myself downstairs to say goodnight on day 2 after chemo, feeling the ill-est and weakest I’ve ever felt in my life. When both kids wound up in a&e until 2am on day 4 after another chemo. I was dead on my feet. So many times when they wanted to play or run around and I had no energy. I look back on the tough days and I don’t know how I did it.
But for the most part, I didn’t have to act to be normal mummy. The kids helped me pull it together and I was forced to get on with life. They needed their mummy, the chores still need doing, life still went on. Without them, I think I would have wallowed in feeling rubbish a lot more. But I simply didn’t have time to be ill for long.
So the good days far outweighed the bad. I quickly learnt that my energy was much lower than normal so I tried to keep enough in the tank each day for genuine, quality time with the kids. Sometimes I was a bit spaced out, but I was still there.
And honestly, I don’t think they have been affected by it. Sometimes my little girl will touch my scars and ask if they hurt. And sometimes my little boy will talk about when Mummy had no hair. But I firmly believe that their lasting memory is of happy times of us as a family.
Chemo is the longest period we’ve all been together - as my husband works away half the year. So as much as it was shit, it was also magical.