There is a scene in the movie The Passion of Christ where the Virgin Mary has flashbacks of comforting Jesus at certain points during His childhood. When I first watched the movie, it resonated with me as a mother. As she watched her son being scourged, her helplessness in that one scene was emphasized strongly through these flashbacks.
This scene has figured prominently in my life as of late. In my mind, it is blasphemous to even think my family and I are anything near to the Blessed Mother and her divine Son so I’m not going there. This is not a religious essay. But, her feeling of utter helplessness in the face of watching her own child suffer is relatable to any parent, especially when serious illness or injury is involved.
My 27-year old daughter is on her cancer journey
In late August, my 27-year old daughter began her cancer journey. Diagnosed with early-stage breast cancer was enough of a gut punch but additional scans revealed that the disease had spread to her liver.
The cancer was aggressive or it had been brewing for a while, waiting to percolate at just the right time, you know, less than a year before her wedding. There are no Band Aids that can fix this.
There is nothing I can do to fix this
A 10-day antibiotic prescription cannot cure this as it did for ear infections and strep. I cannot make my chicken noodle soup or put on the humidifier. As a mother, I really can’t do much. The soups I prepared and put in her freezer are still there (and that’s okay) because after several days of only being able to stomach soup, she’s sick of it. Can you blame her?
The chairs and end tables we bought for the extra room in her apartment provide some comfort but they cannot fix this thing. We live 300 miles away and cannot run there every time she feels sick but, then again, that’s not our role either. She has a fiancé and he has the “in sickness and in health” things down pat, better than many long-time spouses. That’s a blessing in this whole thing.
Many an essay or reflection has been written about when your children leave for college or the military, when the nest is empty, how they don’t need you the same way any longer. Every parent of an adult child goes through his or her own set of emotions during this time, navigating, letting them go and watching them fly.
A life-threatening illness adds a whole layer to the parenting experience
That part was a bit easier for me with both of our children. Setting them up for independence from us was always the goal. We do help them from time to time. But a life-threatening illness adds a whole layer to the parenting experience.
Parents of young children facing tough diagnoses post often, creating whole social media content around their journeys, documenting their challenges, their pain, the effects the illness has on their entire families. Mothers capturing their tears and fears. I empathize with them wholeheartedly.
But this is not how I feel comfortable dealing with this. And, let’s be honest, I don’t have the logistical challenges they have. Nor is it my role anymore to be the hands-on. My parent journey, while similar, is different.
Our roles as parents of adults evolve over time. Our need to be helpful, to be there every minute, to put the Band Aid on the boo boo never goes away, it just looks different over time. The breakup, the university rejection letter, the failing grade, the first flu away from home.
Our need to hold our children and protect them from the harshness of life never goes away. Our ways of holding their hands through it does. And we eventually get to the other side. Cancer and other serious illnesses (I include addiction here, too) are a whole other ballgame. These are not included in the parenting books or in essays.
There is a deep ache in my heart watching my daughter’s post-chemo nausea
The deep ache in my heart watching post-chemo nausea, and not being able to do a damn thing about it, never goes away, even when she texts me a picture of the big cheeseburger she ate when her appetite came back.
No smoothie can help in those uber nauseous moments. The girl who used to jump up and down, get up and dance and belt out karaoke, taking advantage of outdoor concerts on a whim is hiding behind fatigue, nausea, hot flashes and fear. It’s that last thing that we as parents cannot take away this time.
We cannot back rub it away or feed it away or talk it away. A young adult going through cancer understands too much, knows too much. They feel the same fears that we would in that same situation.
We can only sit with our adult children in the muck
What we can do is sit with them in the muck. Right before our daughter’s first big appointment, she was terrified. I prayed for something I could do in that moment. I just held her and told her it sucks. That we would be with her in the muck, through all of it.
That we weren’t going to tell her flowery things and lies. But that we would be there whenever she needed us. That we loved her. And that she was in the best place possible – what a blessing that is in itself.
Her oncologist is one of the best. When she wanted to be home early for Thanksgiving, my husband drove to her fiancé’s parents’ house two hours away to get her. Her future in-laws are wonderful caring people, but they were heading out for the holiday.
We pray often and hard
And she wanted her childhood bed. It’s what little we can do. And, while I said this isn’t a religious essay, we do pray, often and hard. We rely on our prayer warriors and pray that her first set of scans show progress.
Sometimes parenting adults with serious challenges just amounts to being there in the muck with them. The willingness to jump into the mess when needed and taking the time to pray for the strength to be able to do so when you are not.
It’s also recognizing your powerlessness in solving the challenge instead holding their hands as they face it head on.
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