As October ushers in fall, the season of pumpkin spice lattes, Halloween anticipation, and Breast Cancer Awareness Month begins. Stores transform into a sea of pink, showcasing countless ways to demonstrate support. This month serves as a reminder to honor those who have triumphed over cancer, to rally behind those still in the fight, and to reflect on those we have lost.
While I’ve always been aware of breast cancer and its impact, it wasn’t until I met Emily that I truly understood its gravity. Since then, I’ve witnessed a cascade of diagnoses, numerous surgeries, moments of remission, and a few heart-wrenching funerals. Yet, my focus remains on Emily and the lasting inspiration she provides.
Emily embodied the spirit of a fairy tale princess — her enchanting voice paired with a kindness that radiated from her soul. She led a weekly music class for weary mothers and their infants, bringing joy to everyone in the room. It was no surprise that my daughter would light up at the sight of her, even on days she was a bit of a handful. For me, those classes were a much-needed escape during the chaotic journey of motherhood. They were spaces to share parenting woes, seek advice, and find solace in singing “You Are My Sunshine.”
Shortly after tying the knot, Emily’s dreams blossomed when she discovered she was expecting. Then, just a few weeks later, her world shattered with the news of a lump in her breast. At eight weeks pregnant, Emily faced the unthinkable: she had breast cancer. A true warrior, she bravely endured chemotherapy alongside the challenges of morning sickness. Her maternity photoshoot, which she dedicated to the American Cancer Society, wasn’t what she envisioned, yet she approached it all with unwavering grace, putting her baby’s well-being above her own. Ultimately, she welcomed a healthy baby boy into the world.
Emily experienced remission, but soon the cancer returned, and the day I learned of her passing felt surreal. This wasn’t part of the plan; she was a mother who deserved to be with her child.
On days when I’m overwhelmed, like dreary Sundays spent wrangling a hyperactive toddler while nursing a headache from the previous night’s wine, I think of Emily. When the urge to hide under the covers and binge-watch shows strikes, I remember how Emily would have given anything for an afternoon with her son. I imagine her laughing, singing, and showering him with love. In those moments, I feel an immense sense of gratitude.
I am here. I get to be a mom to this wonderful (if a bit muddy) little human. While I don’t magically become Supermom, I strive to honor Emily and all the mothers who long to hold their children, squeezing mine a little tighter for them.
“Ready to splash in puddles?” I asked my son, determined to seize the rainy day.
“Yes!! Clothes or no clothes?” he replied, bubbling with excitement.
Okay, moment gone.
A few months ago, I spotted Emily’s husband and their son at a museum. I recognized them instantly and felt compelled to approach them. Gathering my courage, I probably looked a bit awkward as I tried to express how much Emily impacted my life.
“Hi! I know your little guy,” I said, waving. “I took music classes with Emily, and I think of her often.”
His smile was warm. “Many people say that.”
“Does he show any musical talent?” I asked, chuckling as Emily’s son eagerly pulled mine towards a stack of magnetic blocks.
“Oh, absolutely! He never stops singing!” her husband laughed.
“That’s definitely Emily in him,” I replied, filled with warmth knowing that her spirit lives on in her child.
Thank you, Emily. Your strength has been a beacon in my darkest moments of motherhood. May your song continue to resonate.
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In summary, the memories of those we’ve lost can inspire us to appreciate our own lives and the moments we have with our loved ones. Emily’s legacy reminds me to embrace motherhood with gratitude and joy, cherishing every fleeting second.