What it Means to Turn 44 as a Mother Who Has Cancer
Hi, I’m Lis! 👋 I’m in treatment for stage four Melanoma. Here to support other women through their cancer journey. 🫶
This was not on my vision board for turning 44 as a wife and mother. I sat in a dilapidated armchair, in the middle of the cancer infusion center at my hometown hospital. The IV drip rhythmically pumped next to me, lulling me into a sleepy half-awake zone. It was my birthday, but it was also one of two days a week I had to sit and get IV fluids, because my body wasn’t staying hydrated properly, and I had already been hospitalized once for severe dehydration.
I looked up to see my beautiful friend Jill walk into the dark, spacious room, which housed over twenty armchairs (half of which were full), with other cancer patients receiving treatment. I could see the look on her face, and it made a lump well up in my throat. It was the same look I’d had the first time I walked in here. It was a mix of horror and sadness. I was now numb to the sound of the pumping machines delivering treatment, and the fact that every other patient was twice my age.
She smiled at me, tears in her eyes, and handed me a bouquet and a sweet package of cupcakes. “Not exactly the birthday you wanted or expected,” she said, smiling through her tears. I nodded, holding back tears myself, as she pulled up a chair to visit. No one asks to turn 44 and be in cancer treatment, but life has a way of serving us the unpredictable and sometimes heartbreaking.
I’m a mom, and I have stage four melanoma in my pancreas and liver. I’m currently in cancer treatment. This is what I learned as I turned forty-four during the most challenging part of my cancer journey.
Turning 44 When Time Feels Loud and Fragile
I was already a cancer survivor when the melanoma came back with a vengeance to wreak havoc on my pancreas and liver. I’d beat this disease at 23 years old, when they removed a melanoma mole, and all tests showed I was “cancer-free.” Fast forward twenty years, and the melanoma that I thought was gone resurfaced. For better or worse, my experience with cancer both at a young age and now, at what some would still call “a young age,” has given me a unique perspective on time. There are a few ways that time has changed for me since my cancer diagnosis, and since turning forty-four while in treatment.
Calendar Time is Increment-Driven, While Cancer Time is Moment-Driven
Before being diagnosed, I felt like I was always racing against the clock of time. Adding more “yeses,” more goals, more responsibilities, and moving so quickly, I couldn’t really enjoy each thing as it came and passed. When I turned forty-four, it was the first time and the first birthday when I was truly just grateful to be alive, thankful to have made it through another year, grateful to be getting a fluid infusion instead of throwing a party. Cancer time is about small wins and simple yet impactful moments.
Aging Becomes a Gift and Getting Old is the Goal
How often do you hear someone lament turning a year older? Or, say how afraid they are of getting old. Something happens when you’re diagnosed with cancer, especially a late-stage cancer. You quickly realize that each marker of time is a gift. Instead of lamenting growing older, the “older” is desired and wanted. Whether you have cancer, have survived from cancer, or are just a human being trying to get through life day-to-day (all of which can exist simultaneously), this change in my view of time and aging is worth absorbing and giving more weight to in your daily life.
Time is Fragile, & Life is What’s Happening Now
I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had one thought since my stage four cancer diagnosis, “if not now, when?”
I didn’t coin that phrase, but it perfectly captures the feeling of being alive, wanting to live for what’s possible now rather than some obscure future. Which is a gift that having cancer gave me. Life is what’s happening now. How can you be a part of it?
Making Motherhood Work With Cancer
Here’s the thing about having cancer as a mother of children who still need me every single day: their needs don’t just stop, and there is no pause in showing up.
You’re Still Needed & That’s So Hard
One of the most heartbreaking moments in this whole experience I’ve had thus far with cancer was when I was too sick to attend my daughter’s volleyball games. She kept saying it was okay, but it really wasn’t. Months later, she opened up to me about how much that time period had hurt and scared her. Here’s the thing: I couldn’t do anything about it. I was too sick to go and too fragile to be exposed to a gym full of people, but that didn’t change the fact that she still needed me. Just know, if you’re going through something like this, and have children at home, it blows. And you might not be able to change everything, but now that I am in a healthier and stronger place, I am working to be there, to pick up the pieces, and alleviate the concerns that arose when I couldn’t. Because I was still needed, and there is no easy replacement for me.
That said, I have had to lean heavily on my husband, family members, and a few trusted friends during this phase of motherhood for pickups, drop-offs, and other day-to-day needs.
Patient & Parent Are Emotional Whiplash
It’s okay to feel like parenting and being a patient is emotional whiplash. One minute you’re throwing up in the toilet, and the next you’re picking up your son from school and working with him on reading. It’s a Sh*t deal. And if after reading time, you need to go into the bathroom and cry your eyes out, just know that is “normal,” if normal is even a thing you can be as a mom with cancer.
I’ve had to learn to be more patient with myself, the mother, and more caring to myself, the cancer patient, through this time. Your kids will get through this, but you need to get through it too.
Showing Vulnerability & Honesty Can Help
Let me tell you, I had to get comfortable with my kids seeing my vulnerability on full display really fast during the first few months after being diagnosed with cancer. I couldn’t eat. I was losing weight like I was on GLP-1, and some days, I could barely get out of bed. Whether I liked it or not, they were seeing it, and the simple truth of this actually helped me to know that they were stronger and more capable than I would have allowed for them if I hadn’t been in the state that I was in.
So we talked about it – the fears, concerns, and needs my children expressed that weren’t getting met. And talking honestly about what, not just I was going through, but what they were going through, helped more than I can describe. That’s not to say we aren’t dealing with the aftermath, and there’s still tons of uncertainty about my health, but we didn’t hide things, and I’m grateful we didn’t try.
Things I Thought I’d Care About at 44 (And Absolutely Do Not)
Hustle culture.
Being palatable.
Explaining my energy level.
Any narrative that requires me to “stay positive.”
Before my cancer diagnosis, I was running a mile a minute. Running my business, my (many) passion projects, keeping my kids busy in sports, and other school activities, or extracurriculars, keeping up with friends and family, the list goes on. But cancer made everything come to a complete stop. As I ease back into life as a wife, business owner, blogger, and mom with cancer, I’ve learned a few valuable things about what I thought I would care about at this stage of life, and what I actually care about as a woman who’s middle-aged and has cancer.
Hustle Culture Has No Place Here - Everything grinding to a halt in my life made me very aware of everything I a) was doing, and b) was being expected to do. Hustle culture is a deep-rooted and toxic system in our culture that keeps working moms in a constant state of anxiety. I didn’t realize how much I was participating in this side of work culture and life until I had to stop. And, I’ll tell you what; I’m never going back.
Being Palatable is a Form of Poison - Somewhere between the IV scars and procedures where my body was on full display for five different medical teams to assess and comment upon, I lost something I’d been holding onto that wasn’t serving me. It was the idea of being palatable. As women, we’re taught from a very young age to be agreeable and to quietly toe the line. But when your life flashes before your eyes, and your entire physical appearance changes in a matter of weeks, the things that really matter get clear really fast. I don’t need to be palatable. I need to live life for myself. I wish this for you, too.
Overexplaining is So Last Decade - It took me getting cancer to realize that I don’t need to explain myself to everyone, or anyone for that matter. Don’t like my parenting methods? I don’t care. You feel entitled to tell me how I should heal or treat my cancer? No, thank you. You think that publicly talking about my cancer journey is cringeworthy? Good for you, and not my issue. My life, energy level, parenting, business, and public persona are not yours to own; it’s mine. If you’re struggling with the overwhelming feedback that comes with having cancer and being a mother, wife, woman, just remind yourself that your life and journey are yours and no one else's. There’s no time for that. Just let it go.
What I’m Thankful to Be Grateful for Now
Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot that I was grateful for before cancer, and many of those things have remained. What I’m most thankful for now has shifted, but each morning when I wake up and sit down to write what I am grateful for, I notice some consistent themes. Themes that are fundamental to my wellbeing, and are wholly different from before.
I’m now grateful for:
Slow mornings and early bedtimes (rest and health go hand in hand)
Soft expectations of myself and others (we all need that leeway)
Laughing at things that once would’ve annoyed me (after I let myself be annoyed for a minute)
Presence over productivity (and being okay with that)
Peace over power (because true power comes from peace)
Sunrises and sunsets (each day is a gift)
Turning 44 Isn’t a Comeback Story
I’m not writing this post to tell you how I survived cancer, and give you some diet regimen to follow, or a pill to take. There is no magic pill or triumphant bow here that I’m planning to share. I still have cancer, and I’m still in treatment. I pray every single day that I will make it through this and will come out the other side cancer-free, but I can’t guarantee that. None of us can.
I’m just a mother, wife, business owner, and woman with cancer, here to share with you, in the hopes that it helps you feel a little less alone. I’m still living, still working, still having good days and bad ones, but I’m here, and that’s something I am beyond grateful to say.
If You’re Aging While Surviving Something Hard
Whether you’re in cancer treatment, have survived a battle with cancer, or are dealing with some other challenging and life-altering experience in your world or body, I see you. In this stage of my life as a mother, woman, and writer, I’m not going to tell you what to do, or provide inspiration porn over truth. And, hope and happiness, for me at least, have come from the discovery and connection I’ve made with other women who are going through or have gone through something similar.
I’m here, writing for you and other women and mothers so that we can feel seen instead of alone.
