The Smile Was a Lie: What Childhood Cancer Does to Parents
- Rebecca Eastman
- Feb 17
- 3 min read
People say it all the time.
“You handled it so well.”
And I know they mean it as a compliment.I know they’re trying to honor the strength they think they’re seeing.
But the truth?
I didn’t handle it.
Not the way people imagine. Not the way I wish I could say I did.
I wore a smile that was convincing enough to get through the day.But behind it, I was unraveling.
The Parents Are the Ones Left Struggling
So often, the focus is on the child — as it should be.They are the ones fighting. They are the ones enduring the needles, the chemo, the scans, the side effects, the pain.
But what no one really talks about is what happens to the parents.
We’re the ones standing there thinking:
What just happened?How is this real life?Where did I go wrong?How did we get here?
There is a specific kind of shock that comes with hearing the words:
“Your child has cancer.”
It’s not just fear.It’s not just sadness.
It’s like the floor disappears beneath your entire life.
You Get Really Good at Smiling
And then something strange happens.
You learn how to smile.
Not because you’re okay.Not because you’re strong.Not because you’ve accepted it.
You smile because you don’t want to bring other people down.
You smile because you don’t want to make the room uncomfortable.
You smile because you don’t want to be the “sad mom.”
You smile because you’ve learned that the world doesn’t always know what to do with grief — especially the kind that lives in your home every day.
So you get good at looking fine.
Even when you’re not.
Childhood Cancer Is Life-Altering
Here’s the truth that deserves to be said out loud:
Childhood cancer is life-altering.It is fucking scary.
It’s scary in a way that changes you permanently.
It changes how you sleep.How you breathe.How you hear a phone ring.How you interpret every cough.How you walk into a grocery store and see germs everywhere.How you look at the future and feel your chest tighten.
It changes your nervous system.
And it changes your identity.
You Become Someone Else
At some point, you stop being the person you used to be.
You become a parent who knows too much.A parent who can list chemo drugs and side effects like vocabulary words.A parent who knows how to read blood counts.A parent who can recognize “that look” on a nurse’s face.
You become hyper-aware.Hyper-responsible.Hyper-vigilant.
And yet, you still have to function.
You still have to show up.
You still have to be the calm one.
Even when your heart is breaking.
We Are Allowed to Feel All of It
I want to say something clearly, for the parent who needs to hear it:
You are allowed to be scared.
You are allowed to cry.
You are allowed to feel gratitude and grief in the same breath.
You are allowed to feel strong one moment and completely undone the next.
You are allowed to feel anger.And hope.And exhaustion.And love so intense it physically hurts.
Because this is not normal.
And you are doing something no parent should ever have to do.
We Show Up No Matter What
One of the most powerful things about parents of children with cancer is this:
We show up.
Even when we’re falling apart.
Even when we haven’t slept.
Even when we’ve cried in the bathroom.
Even when our hearts are shattered.
We show up for our babies.
Every single day.
And we do it with a smile when we have to — even if it’s not the truth.
If You’re Living Behind the Smile… I See You
If you are a parent carrying more than people can see, I see you.
If you feel like you’re barely holding it together, I see you.
If you’re doing the appointments, the meds, the constant worry, the endless mental load — and still trying to be a person — I see you.
You are not weak.
You are human.
And you are doing the hardest thing imaginable.
And if no one has told you this lately:
You don’t have to smile to be strong.You don’t have to “handle it well” to be worthy.You don’t have to be okay to be an incredible parent.
You just have to keep showing up.
And you are. 💛
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