We were just playing.
I was curled up in my recliner, wrapped in a blanket, trying to hide the exhaustion that chemo brought. I didn’t want him to worry. Then he came over holding his teddy bear, dressed in a tiny hospital gown. Carefully, he tied a ribbon around its neck and said softly, “He’s going to be okay. I fixed him.”
I smiled, “You’re such a good doctor.”
Then, without looking at me, he said,
“Mommy… when you go away… I’ll miss you every day.”
My heart stopped. The room seemed to close in. My little boy, so innocent, had just said the thing I feared most.
I tried to smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. How could I explain? How could he understand what I was facing?
I asked gently, “What do you mean, buddy?”
He looked up with wide eyes. “I heard you telling daddy you might have to go away for a while. I don’t want you to go.”
My chest tightened. I had shared my fears with my husband, never imagining my son would overhear.
“Mommy, you won’t leave me, right?” His voice was barely a whisper.
I had no words—no promises I could honestly make.
I pulled him close and let the tears fall. “I’m here, sweetheart. We’ll get through this together, okay?”
He nodded but held on tight, and my heart broke in two.
A few days later, when I was resting after chemo, he came in with his teddy again—this time wearing a superhero cape.
“Mommy, I made him strong. Now he’ll save you!”
I laughed through tears. “You’re so creative, buddy. I love that.”
He looked at me full of confidence. “When I grow up, I’ll be a doctor and a superhero. I’ll make sure no one gets sick.”
I kissed his head, feeling both hope and fear.
As treatment wore on, my strength faded, but he was my light—holding my hand, reminding me all would be okay.
One day, he handed me a crayon drawing—a picnic with us together.
“It’s us, Mommy. Always together,” he said.
I hugged him, feeling overwhelmed by his love and innocence.
“Mommy, we’ll be together forever, right?”
I couldn’t promise forever. But I could promise love.
Then came the good news: the tumor had shrunk. The treatment was working.
That glimmer of hope gave me new strength—strength I found through my son’s love.
The greatest lesson? Sometimes the ones we care for are the ones who carry us through the hardest battles.
If this touched you, share it with someone who needs a reminder that love and hope can lift us even in the darkest times.