What we don’t see is the hours and hours of dance practice. The tears earned from falls or exhaustion or improper stretching. The desire to quit or just take a break from it all. The feeling that, no matter how hard she tried, she would “never get it”.

This girl, this incredible and smart and strong girl, the one who blessed me with the name Mumma…she teaches me something everyday. She, many times, shoves me out of my comfort zone and makes me heart-breaking-ly EARN that right.

The night before chemo is the hardest. She knows and I know what’s coming. We both head to bed, following our same bedtime routines that inevitably don’t happen as planned. I hear her pace back and forth to the bathroom or I hear her footsteps coming down the stairs, hours past bedtime. And after a short conversation, we both head back to her bed for me to tuck her in.

Mumma, what happens if you die?
What is going to happen?

Well, fuck.
Thankfully, that is not what tumbled out of my mouth.

I told her, through my tears and hers, that that would not be happening if I had anything to do with it. That is why I’m doing this thing that makes me so sick, I question my sanity. That is why, even though I could barely stand, I would be going to her dance comp that following weekend – to show her I wasn’t going anywhere.

But.

But.

If it did happen, I wouldn’t be going down without one hell of a fight. And we have plans and things in place if that was to happen, cancer or no cancer.

In that moment, she blessed me yet again. I became even more DETERMINED to live the hell out of this life.

It gets hard to see the positive in this experience. It gets hard to feel confident that we are strong enough to make it through. It is DAMN hard to see what the lesson is in this.

Being able to witness her soaring through the air? THAT is the best lesson, if you ask me.

Love and light, always 💜❣️💜