Tonight, My son, Anderson, saw me cry for the very first time. He was doing the usual post bedtime visit claiming of thirst, starvation or solving the ways of the world in twenty questions. I, was nursing Sebastian with just my right side, the only one he is keeping stocked with breast milk when my phone buzzed "mom calling." I answered, it was half-past nine and I'd knew she would have the results she had been waiting for from the doctor. She sounded upbeat, a wave of relief went through me, thinking I knew it couldn't be (with that invincibility attitude) but then she gave it to me straight. Her voice steady: "I have cancer." What followed was her rattling off the next steps and procedures--her voice matter of fact, strong -- the woman who just had a kick to the gut, lung more appropriately, not giving in to her internal war. I knew she was staying strong for me, so I tried to return in kind. But as soon as I opened my mouth my voice cracked as the news sunk-in, and my dear mother heard the waiver in my voice...and we both caved. Shattered.
Anderson, who had since went to look out the window immediately took notice..."Mummy, wait. Are you crying? Why are you crying?" I explained that "Mimi is sick. And we have to ask God to help us." But then I recanted not wanting him to be mad with God, if things didn't go in his favor. We have to pray with God, Anderson, that Mimi
will put up a fight and win over this illness." Just like my own mother, I quickly pulled myself together wanting to remain strong for him, and not causing him worry. I reassured him that Mimi would be okay, and he said: "Yes, mummy but THIS is sad --Mimi has a cold."
Originally written - June 11, 2013
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