How We Got Through the First Weeks—and Why I’m Still Holding My Breath

The first few weeks after diagnosis… they were a blur.

We had just welcomed a new baby, and then Parker was diagnosed a day later. There wasn’t time to process anything. It was survival mode.

Appointments, information, emotions—it all blended together.

I spent a lot of time asking why.

Why us?

Why my child?

Why now?

So many whys, and no real answers.

At some point, I had to shift where my mind was going just to get through the days. I started holding onto the silver linings—whatever I could find:

• the cure rate

• the specific type Parker had

• his age he got it

• and the team we were surrounded by

I used to call it the “cancer club”—an exclusive membership. The one you never want to be part of, but once you’re in, the people you meet along the way become irreplaceable.

The support, the families, the friends who show up… they carry you in ways you didn’t even know you needed.

But truthfully, we got through it one day at a time. Sometimes one hour at a time.

And one of the biggest reasons we made it through those early days was our case manager.

He didn’t just help—he managed our life during that first year of diagnosis.

When everything felt impossible and overwhelming, he made day-to-day life manageable.

He kept track of everything we couldn’t:

• every appointment

• every medication

• every schedule change

• every piece of communication between teams

When our minds were too overloaded to think straight, he was thinking for us.

He made sure we were where we needed to be, when we needed to be there. He helped us understand what was coming next when everything felt uncertain. He was the constant in a time that felt completely out of control.

In a season where we were just trying to survive—he gave us structure, clarity, and a sense that maybe we could actually get through this.

I don’t think people always realize how life-changing that kind of support is… but for us, it made all the difference.

One of the biggest questions parents ask is: Do you ever breathe again?

For me… not really. Not yet.

I live in a constant state of “what if.” Waiting for the other shoe to drop. My brain is wired differently now. There’s a level of fear that just stays.

My daughter had a fever recently, and I immediately panicked—we need to go to the ER. Because that’s what we had to do with Parker. Then I had to remind myself… she’s healthy. A fever is okay.

And then right after that, the fear shifts again—what if Parker gets it?

It’s a constant state of high alert.

Maybe over time that feeling softens. I hope it does. But right now, this is where I am.

If you’re in those first few weeks—lost, overwhelmed, asking all the “whys”… I see you.

Take it one moment at a time. You don’t have to figure it all out today. 💛