Sarah and I were sitting quietly in the car together, just before going inside the clinic for her biopsies. I was thinking about how nervous and afraid she must be and thought it might comfort her if we prayed together briefly. When I turned in my seat to take her hand, I was absolutely stunned.
Instead of the fear I felt sure I’d see, I saw instead a face that held serenity, sweetness, luminosity—even joy.
I gazed at her for a long moment without being able to speak even a single word and then my eyes filled with tears. It sounds strange to say, but I felt as though I was in a sacred place; I felt that what was to come had faded into the background of what was already present there in that quiet cocoon of mama and daughter and love.
There was peace there. There was an absence of anxiety. There were sunshine eyes on the face of my child.
I did finally take her hand and pray, although I was baffled for words and powerless to know how to give comfort to someone who was already radiant.
And it was the radiance that broke my heart.
Sarah was geared up to face this newest challenge with the spunk and spirit that have always defined her.
Something tough to get through? She’s going to take it on. Some awful challenge to overcome? She’s going to come out on the other side with that Sarah spark intact.
But not this time. This time, I saw the luminosity shatter.
When the procedure was finally over and she stumbled her way back into the waiting room, the sunshine in her eyes had gone. Despite the compassion and care of the medical team, my girl had gone with them to a place of suffering and for the first time in her long history of cancer treatment and accompanying physical traumas, she had gone to that place without me.
She told me that In the few brief moments when the doctor and nurse had stepped out of the room, she had sobbed. And each time they returned, with all the self control she possessed, she calmed herself down for the next part of the process.
At one point during the biopsy she had so badly wanted to ask the nurse, “Would it be okay if I just held your hand?”
But she didn’t ask.
Because the nurse wasn’t her mama. And she didn’t know if it was the right thing to do.
But oh, how she needed that mama comfort.
She was cold and shaking, despite the blanket covering her. A medical instrument was piercing the most sensitive parts of her body. Each time one of the eight tissues samples was removed, the loud clicking sound startled and re-traumatized her. And then she found out at the last minute that the lumps in both of her breasts were now being categorized as suspicious which meant the process would go on even longer.
And as difficult as the physical trauma was, it was nothing compared with her emotional stress as she thought about the possibility of having cancer again. There are few fears greater.
For the first time (due to the rules at this facility), my daughter suffered a large trauma without her mom. And that solitary suffering served to diminish—at least for a while–the spark that is Sarah.
And it wrecked me.
That has been the reason for my tears over these past couple of days. Not just the possibility of breast cancer. Not just the waiting. Not just the fear and the worry.
It’s because my precious girl went in brave and came out shattered and I wasn’t there to stand guard over her heart when it happened. I wasn’t there to hold her hand when she wept.
And what makes me so awfully, terribly sad is that I know it won’t be the last time her spirit will be bruised, the last time her heart and body will hurt. And even worse, I know that when those things happen, I won’t always be able to be there.
Because that is the way of this life. That is part of the process of becoming an adult, of being an adult. We have to steel ourselves to face our hardest times without the love of the people who comforted us in our earliest memories.
But when those inevitable times come for Sarah, my solace is this: I know that hanging on a hook in her recollections, she has pictures of my love. I know that safe in the photo albums of her heart, she has snapshots of all those times when she did have my hand to hold.
And when she walks through valleys of shadows, she will be able to reach for those memories and know that she is not alone after all. She is never alone.
That is my wish for my girl. No matter what these biopsies reveal, no matter what kinds of troubles the years may bring,she will always be able to ask, ‘Mama, can I hold your hand?”
And no matter how far apart our lives may have taken us–at that moment, she will feel my love, she will hear my voice.
And the answer will always be, “Yes, sweet baby. Yes.”
Dear Becky, My heart goes out to Sarah and your family. Please know that I am praying for Sarah’s healing… What the enemy has meant for evil, God can and will turn to good. A multitude is praying, faces are turned toward the Savior, Mom’s are getting a glimpse of what Motherhood is all about, I am hugging my Grandbabies closer… thank you for sharing your journey, both good and challenging… Sending much love… Fran
Fran,
You’re so sweet to send such encouraging words. Enjoy those wonderful grandbabies.
I’m 65 but still need the comforting hand of my Mama. Thanks for sharing your personal emotions & fears & concerns….for being real & honest & open.
PS This is from Kay
Kay,
I know. Mamas are always needed, aren’t they? You’re so blessed to have your sweet mom living so close; I saw her picture on FB the other day and it made me smile.
Becky and Sarah,
Not sure if you remember me or not, sometimes when you would come to our church I would babysit for Nate and Sarah. Well years ago I had made some “Sarah” prayer bracelets and sold them at my church for a fundraiser for your family. Anyways, I wanted you to know that I have pulled out my “Sarah” bracelet again as a reminder to be praying for you all every day. (With 2 kids and another on the way I needed that constant reminder) In fact, my daughter who is 7 asked me what it is for and after I told her she asked me to make her one. So that is what we did for her homeschool art project the other day. Please know that we will be praying for peace, strength and healing if need be! Love to you from MN.
MN Friend,
I do remember a wonderful babysitter from back in those days! Thank you for your sweet influence on Nathan and Sarah’s lives.
And how wonderful to think of you all wearing bracelets reminding you to pray for Sarah; I was especially touched that your daughter wanted to be a part of it. Give her a hug and a thanks from me!
Becky, so glad to see this blog. We have been praying for Sarah through this ordeal. I remembered how painful it was for me and my doctor had asked if I would allow a student in training to observe. I said yes, but if I had it to do over, I would have said no. He seemed to have spent more time with her and explaining the process, than with me and my pain. Please tell Sarah, that we are standing with you and her during this time. For me, this procedure was worse than the surgery. Praying for good results and Peace for her.
Frankie,
How wonderful to see your name pop up!
I know–that’s always a hard decision, isn’t it? I’ve had doctors ask me to allow students in the room with us and although I love the thought of being part of training the next generation of doctors, it is sometimes a bit weird to have a doctor explaining something to someone else. Hugs to you.
Such a beautiful and stirring entry, Becky. Praying for you all.
Becky and Sarah,
You are in my thoughts and prayers. I know this is hard, but she is the strongest little lady I have ever met. If I had half of her courage I would be so happy. God put her hear for a reason. I always told Tammy that when we were working on the foundation. I’ve always been in awe of her and I tell anyone going through a cancer scare about her brave heart. We will be coming to Manteo soon to see Andrea soon, I would love to visit with you guys.
Gretchen,
Sure–give us a holler when you get to the area!
Thanks for helping to encourage other cancer patients with Sarah’s story. That’s what this whole journey is about.
Oh for the love of God through human arms. Live you and praying.
Should have been love you not live.
Ann,
Isn’t it amazing all the times we DO feel God’s love through human arms? Such a beautiful thought.
This post broke my very young mama heart. Thank you for sharing that window into motherhood future and for giving me a moment to pause and think about how I will continue to hold my baby’s hand when we are not close.
I continue to keep Sarah close at heart. You vividly sharing these precious moments of your family with such beautiful words are a gift to us.
Courtney,
I remember the days of being a very young mama and not having a clue what the future might hold for me or for my babies. But I knew the joys would outweigh the sorrows and that we would always have the strength we needed–but only when we needed it. Hugs to you and your sweet baby today.
Oh man, no person should have to go through that. I hate that her nurses didn’t notice and offer to hold her hand! When I had my biopsies, a nurse noticed the tears falling down my face as I lay on the table and asked if she could hold my hand and say a prayer for me. My husband was in the waiting room (they also didn’t allow anyone in the room during what they considered a sterile procedure) yet he felt so far away. Her gesture touched my heart and helped me calm down and know that I wasn’t ever alone. Hugs to you and Sarah.
Vickie,
How wonderful that you had a nurse who was tuned into what was going on beyond the medical part of it. We need more nurses like that! (And I know your husband was thankful for her, too.)
Reading this just made me want to reach through the computer screen and give you and Sarah a big, big hug. I’m so sorry you’re both going through this. And I’m really sorry and disappointed that the facility didn’t allow you to go back with Sarah. In my state, at least, if a patient asks for a chaperone or a relative to stay in the room with them, under the rules of the state medical board they’re supposed to comply with that request, especially if it’s an exam or procedure on a sensitive area.
Many hugs and prayers that everything will come back all clear. <3
Denise,
Thanks for the hug-through-the-screen. It was felt! 🙂
There seem to be varying policies in place as far as who can go back with a patient. I understand that there is only limited space around a biopsy table but I would have loved to have been there holding her hand . . .
Can’t even see to type through the tears. How cold and uncaring our medical world has become to not allow a parent or partner to be with their loved one and give them comfort during a time like this. Yes, I’m so glad that Sarah’s heart bears the indelible fingerprints of both God’s love and yours, but you should have been able to be there with her.
Pam,
Thank you for your always-compassionate heart. You are a treasure!
I think all your readers and Sarah Followers should write a nasty letter to those who wouldn’t let you go back with her! That makes me mad and so sad that Sarah had to go through that alone without her mama who has ALWAYS been there through everything. Sarah isn’t just some normal every day patient. She’s SARAH! A survivor of an unsurvivable cancer. She’s already been through way more than she ever should have had to go through. She should never have to be alone. That being said, I know she wasn’t actually alone. We were all there with her in spirit and you were just down the hall, and Jesus was there with her. But still….
I sure hope work & school can keep her mind occupied while waiting for news. Love & hugs!!
Lizz,
As you wrote, Sarah was definitely surrounded by much love and many prayers–so thankful that was the case.
One time when my children were little I was teaching a Sunday lesson about Jesus healing….a 4yr old in our group had just had a bone marrow transplant and we were all cognizant of his wounds. I brought band aids to put on the children to make the “healing” happen and then prayed saying Jesus does this. The 4 yr old ,who didn’t even appear to be listening, quickly spoke up and said,”yep, and He holds your hand too”! So Sarah, put out your hand!!! And Becky, hold hers as often as possible. Love to all
Betty,
Those words coming from the mouth of THAT particular 4-year old old truly pack a wallop. Thanks for sharing that precious memory. Greetings to Dave!
I read this and sat here and cried – so beautifully written, and so heartfelt, and so completely something your family should not have to be going through again. I am praying for good news soon from the biopsies; I talked to my parents a few nights ago and filled them in, and Mom said to let you know that they are praying too for all of you.
Lauren,
How sweet of you to pass our news on to your parents; please thank them for your prayers. And thanks to you, as well, for taking the time to be concerned a leave such a lovely comment.
What a beautifully written tribute to the daughter that holds your heart. It’s true that they are always our babies, no matter how old they get. Prayers for Sarah and her family.
Gayle,
True, indeed. When Sarah is sixty, she’ll still be my baby! 🙂
no words…. just an overwhelming feeling of love (and sadness) for both you and Sarah and Steve….. the human touch is such a powerful comfort, and I am sorry Sarah was denied that physically, even though your spirit was with her every second of her ordeal.
Mrs. Pam,
Thank you for expressing your compassion so beautifully.
Your post hit home for me I can’t exactly step into Sarah’s shoes because we both have had different medical journeys. I can only write from my advantage….. I started letting go of the security of my mom when it came to medical stuff when I was 18. I felt I needed to be a big girl about things. Sometimes I managed and sometimes I didn’t in my late teens and 20s. I finally learned in my late 20s that it was OK for mom to help me out when I needed her to. I was 34 when I had my last surgery. My dad was almost 61 and my mom was almost 58. My mom and I always shared that last hug before me being wheeled away to the operating room. I made a decision with that surgery that I could not put my folks or myself thru anymore. I can honestly say that I was there for my parents when they were going thru their cancer treatments. I was not the perfect caregiver. But I know that I did my best and I was there for them as much as I could be.
Kristi,
There is a lot of peace of mind in knowing that you did the best you could in caring for the people you love. It sound like the three of you have been through many challenges together.
I know it was difficult for you back as a young adult to start facing some of those medical things alone–seems like there’s never a “good” time to make that transition.
Oh I am so sorry Sarah had to go through that without you by her side. I know you have always been her “blanket”. It has to be no heartbreaking for you to know she just needed her Mama. We Mama’s always want to be there to take away our baby’s pain no matter how old they may be. I hope you both and other family members feel God’s loving arms around you while you wait for GOOD news. Hugs and prayers for you.
Joy,
Yes, our babies are always our babies, aren’t they? 🙂 Thanks for waiting for the news with us and for your encouraging words.
Oh Becky this was so hearty written. My heart aches with yours. I pray the Lord will hold your hand along with Sarah’s so that you may feel His love and know He is with you. May you feel the love from all your readers and that we are with you in spirit. I trust God that there is nothing too big for him to fix, that you will get good results from the test. This just happened to my friend’s husband for what the doctor’s thought was not good and to be prepared when the tests came back only to say there wasn’t anything . So we can keep hope!!!! You and all your family are in my prayers…..
Judy,
We truly DO feel the love from our readers–we are blessed by such amazing support.
Oh Becky. So hard. So hard. She just wanted to hold the nurse’s hand, since she didn’t have her mama. Uggh. So painful to hear 🙁
Lesley,
As a nurse, I am sure there were many times when you offered comfort along with your medical skill. Thank you for what you do.
I am at a loss for words, except to say will continue to pray. Praying that what is there are just cysts. Hugs to the whole family.
Sharyn,
Hugs always welcome!
You have such a way with words. My prayers will be with Sarah, mom and dad as well as family in Florida/Wisconsin (or is it Minnesota) who aren’t close by. I know how hard it is to be far away and not able to see loved ones when they are going through health crises.
Phyllis,
Yes, it is hard to be far from family at a time like this. (And you’re right–they’re in Florida, Wisconsin, and Minnesota!) I know they would be here if they could and means so much.
Praying for you all. If I ever have children, I hope to be the kind of mother you are. Your posts involving your “children” (even though they’re both grown) are always so inspiring.
Reagan,
I’m a very imperfect mom but I do love my kids so very much. Thanks for such sweet words of encouragement.
I’ve had a very tough time over the past couple of years, and it seems to get better and then get worse. I tell you this so that I can also tell you — I know from hard, personal experience that no matter how old you are, no matter where you are and how far you might be from the people that love you? Their love is with you. It took me a while, but eventually I figured out that even if I was sobbing by myself in a doctor’s office 5000 miles away from my mom, she was still out there 5000 miles away worrying about me, loving me, sending comforting vibes my way. And even if my brother was completely unreachable (and probably didn’t want the details anyway!) he was hoping and praying with ever fiber of his being that I would be okay.
The people that love us, they always love us. And it’s not exactly the same as having them right there to hold our hand, but I’ve found that for myself, if I can think of that love when I’m in pain, in trouble, or afraid… it’s pretty much as comforting as if they were right there next to me.
Thinking of you all from many miles away!
Kristina,
Beautifully said. So very true.
What a heartbreaking, beautiful post. Praying for the comfort of our Lord Jesus Christ to surround you all.
Anonymous,
We are thankful for those prayers; thankful for that comfort.
I am sorry she is having to brave this. I don’t understand why they would not let you be in the room with her. When I was facing the possibility of breast cancer and had to have core biopsys done they let my husband be in the room with me. I pray it turns out to be nothing.
Sherri,
So glad for you that your husband was with you; I know that was a great comfort to you!
This post…right here. It made me cry and it broke my heart for BOTH of you. My mama was able to come back with me when my husband couldn’t. Praying for Sarah and you.
Suzanne,
I’m always honored to know that something I write touches someone. Thank you for letting me know.
Was Sarah not allowed to have you go in with her? Or did she feel she needed to do this on her own? I say, regardless of age, that there is nothing wrong with going along and hand-holding. My daughter is 31 and still wants me to go in with her for something as simple as getting her blood drawn as she has anxiety and it is what helps her. So when I’m available, I go! Blessings to you, Princess Groovy Chick. You wouldn’t be human if your spirit and heart didn’t take a beating over this. But you will heal and you will get that sparkle back because that’s just how you roll. Love and hugs!
LeeAnne,
I’m so glad that you can go with your daughter since it helps with your anxiety; I know it makes her feel better and YOU feel better, both!
When we asked, they said no one was allowed except the patient.
As I sit here and quietly sob, my heart breaking for someone I have never met, I am reminded a new of God’s great love for us. Prayers that special spirit of hers will sustain her and all the days ahead.
Janet,
Isn’t it amazing how we can all be tied together in a community without having even met? It is such a great privilege to get to share words and stories (and hard, scary times) with people who are so loving and compassionate. Thank you for your prayers and your tears.
I continue to pray for great results Sarah. You are so strong. I hope that the next couple of weeks fly by for you and your mom. I admire you Becky for being such a great mother. Take care my friends.
Shawn,
Hoping right along with you the two weeks fly by! Who knows? Maybe we’ll hear something early!
Aww reaching for tissues. As a Mom I deeply relate to these feelings. Prayers abound for you and Sarah. How’s Steve holding up?
Guerrina,
Yes, we moms can get teary-eyed pretty quickly, can’t we? Steve is holding up well–being a rock to support the crying females in his life.
My heart is aching for you, I read somewhere that when we decide to have children, we are also deciding to wear our hearts on the outside of our chest…..love and prayers to you all.
Dale,
That is so true about wearing out hearts outside of our chest. Whoever wrote that was most certainly a parent!
:’-)
Twinclarinets,
Thank you for that!
I continue to lift you up in my daily prayers. Rosary said again this morning!!!! Hugs from Iowa,
Marjie–thanks for the continued support and prayers from beautiful Iowa!
Praying for strength and peace as you all wait for the results. God is able which you already know. May you feel His love and ours moment by moment through this journey. Sarah is very special and much loved.
Ann
Moment by moment . . it’s the only way to live, isn’t it?
Hoping and praying that Sarah’s biopsies come out clean. I can’t imagine waiting for the results. Your an awesome mama Becky and I definitely agree that the answer is always YES.
Michelle,
The only good thing about waiting is that it is eventually guaranteed to come to an end. Thank you for waiting with us.
((hugs)) I’m so sorry…I will be continuing to pray.
Thank you so much, Jessica!
Yes, please ask or insist that you be by her side. She may ask it also and she has rights to be alone or rights to have you there. Just because we are labeled “adults” that does not mean we have to face it all alone. You are never too grown up to want your mama’s hand to hold. That is what I miss the most about my mom being gone. Even in her last moments of her life she was reaching for my hand to hold – not for herself but to make sure I knew she would always be “holding my hand” wherever she was – even from Heaven. Praying for the healing of your heart, Becky, as well as the complete health and radiance of Sarah to return.
Mary,
Your mom sounds like such a wonderful lady–reaching to comfort you, even at the end of her life. Thank you for the continued prayers
My daughter Rachael started her cancer journey at 17, and I was thankful to be by her side. When she turned 18, she often asked if her dad or I could be present during difficult times, and the answer was always yes. Rachael died at 19 and I don’t think you could have pulled me from her side during the last few months of her life. You do what you have to do, even if it means begging the hospital staff to allow a parent into their domaine.
Kathie,
Nineteen years old-the same age as Sarah. Incredibly, unspeakably heartbreaking.
I remember seeing some of Rachel’s artwork a few years ago and thinking how very gifted she was. I know you miss her so much; and miss seeing where she would have gone with those gifts.
Rachael was blessed beyond words to have you and her dad beside her through that last season of her life; you love and your presence making up her last memories.
Remembering her today.
I know the “loud clicking sound” well…it is something that you never forget. I am praying for Sarah and your family that this is just a small and fast bump in the road and you are over and beyond soon. God bless you all.
Desera,
Yes, I’ve heard that loud clicking sound, too. Not something either one of wants to hear again, is it? Thanks so much for taking the time to comment and for your prayers.