Reflections in a Mirror | by Debbie

Adrienne came over for a family barbecue this weekend and when she walked in I noticed she was fully turned out – makeup, hair, outfit – all what she would have worn if she were going out for date night. Now, I know she loves us but a family dinner doesn’t mean any of us has to dress up, especially when it has the potential for ketchup or mustard to plop onto a shirtfront or a lap. I was curious, but not enough to ask in the moment.

I was busy doing kitchen things and I overheard Adrienne’s sister compliment her on how nice she looked and this was her response…

Being thrown back into chemical menopause has taken me back to when it happened when I was going through chemo and it makes me feel very much like a cancer patient again. When I catch my reflection in the mirror I want to make sure that nothing I see there reminds me of that.

I’ve been processing that for the last few days and the thought that keeps popping into my mind is what would happen to her if an MBC recurrence means that she will look in the mirror and see a cancer patient looking back at her for the rest of her life?

We do pretty well at seeming normal, whatever that means. But if breast cancer were her every day how would I look at her and not have the despair written all over my face knowing that each family barbecue to celebrate a birthday might be her last one there? How would I let go when my girl stepped into my arms for a hug? How would I look at something we both love and not have my heart ache?

How do mothers of daughters with MBC DO that?

Being Adrienne’s mom NOW is hard. I have all the tools at my disposal but sometimes my feelings are too big for a walk or a deep-breathing moment or a visualization script to give me any relief. If it’s been a really rough day and nothing else has worked I will likely end it with a beer to take the edge off (ahem…self-medicating there) and I can usually pull it back with a cool one and some games on my phone. But that’s with a child who is currently status NED.

Up until now I’ve had the capacity to hold the mantra “This is not about you, this is her diagnosis” as my prime directive. I’ve missed a beat now and then but for the most part I’ve been able to step back into that space and be what Adrienne needs me to be. But I remember standing on the other side of the glass wall looking at the world pass by when we were in the thick of it. I remember feeling disconnected from the people I loved and wondering if I’d ever be able to step through to join them on the other side. I remember closing the circle to the two of us because it took all I had to maintain the calm in the face of the storm that was her life. I can’t see how it would work if that was our forever, how I would shift my thinking to accommodate my worst nightmare.

Some might say that they can’t imagine, but I can. I just don’t want to.

When I catch my reflection in the mirror I can see that the person there is still a strong woman. She is someone who can still be counted on to step up. She can still laugh and love and hope and see the joy. But one of the things consistently in focus when I meet her eyes is the acknowledgement of how lucky she is, how much chance was involved when the dice were tossed. I know that there are too many mothers out there who didn’t win that particular bet. If you are one of them my admiration for you is immeasurable. We are on the same ocean, but we are not in the same boat. The one carrying me and my girl doesn’t have a hole in the bottom that I need to plug with whatever I can find, all the while hoping that something comes along to rescue us before there is nothing left to keep us afloat.

If you are the mother of a daughter with MBC I cannot come close to even pretending to know how you feel. One thing we share regardless of the difference, though, is the love you have for them and the hope that the answer will be found in time.

That I do get. So much.

Mother…Grandmother…Librarian…Military Spouse…Caregiver…Family Life Educator…take your pick! Debbie Legault was born in British Columbia, Canada to a former RCAF airman father and a Scottish War Bride mother and has lived in other Canadian provinces, Germany and California. She has been married for 36 years to a Canadian Air Force Veteran and credits him with filling her life with adventure. When Debbie Legault’s children look at family photos they often comment on how many different hairstyles she has had and that pretty much is her story, that her life has taken as many turns and led her down as many paths as her hair has changed! Her latest role is as the author of Mom…It’s Cancer, the story of supporting her 27-year-old daughter as they experienced breast cancer diagnosis and treatment. Read more of Debbie’s blogs here.