PF. BREAKING NEWS: Chrissy’s battle reveals a mother’s heartbreak, fragile hope, and the courage it takes to face the unthinkable 

In the years leading up to October 2015, life for our family had seemed to be filled with nothing but blessings. Our son had endured eight months of rigorous chemotherapy, and after much struggle, we were overjoyed to learn that his cancer had gone into remission. Life resumed its rhythm—uneventful, yet filled with countless moments of warmth and joy. We felt so blessed. But little did we know, a storm was brewing that would shake our very foundation.

It was Sunday, October 18, 2015, when my world began to unravel. My eight-year-old daughter, Chrissy, approached me in the hallway, her small frame filled with unease. “Mommy, I’m scared,” she said softly, her voice trembling. My heart immediately sank, and I bent down to meet her gaze. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I asked, trying to remain calm.

“I’ve been scared to say anything, but I have this big bump on my chest,” she whispered, her eyes wide with worry. “I’ve had it for a while, and I’m really scared. I needed to tell you.”

At that moment, my stomach dropped. I didn’t know what to say. I reached for the light in the hallway, my hands shaking as I turned it on. Chrissy lifted her night shirt, revealing a dark, hard lump on her right side, just below her nipple. It was unmistakable. There it was, as she had said.

I tried my best to remain composed, but a wave of horror flooded through me. I wasn’t prepared for this. Not my baby girl. The lump was solid, immovable, and darker than it should have been. I didn’t say anything in front of her, but I felt a knot form in my stomach, and fear began to creep in. “We’ll call the doctor first thing in the morning,” I reassured her, although my heart was racing.

I called my husband, Cody, to join us. When he came into the hallway and saw what I had seen, his face mirrored mine. He looked at me, and without a word, the fear in his eyes told me everything. It was not just any lump—it was something far more sinister. “Let’s get her seen right away,” he said softly. We hugged Chrissy tightly and promised her that we would get answers. I could see the same worry in his eyes that I felt in my chest. We just didn’t know what we were up against.

The next morning, I called the doctor’s office, and within hours, we had an appointment. The fear weighed heavy on us all. I couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that this could be something much worse than we wanted to imagine. I just wanted my daughter to be okay.

Later that day, we received the call from our doctor. I could barely breathe as I listened to the words on the other end of the line. “We received the pathology results back, and I’m so sorry, but it has been found that Chrissy has an extremely rare form of breast cancer called secretory breast carcinoma.”

I felt like the floor had just fallen out beneath me. “What?” I could hardly comprehend the words. I couldn’t believe it. My baby girl, my sweet, innocent child, had cancer. The doctor continued, explaining that this type of cancer affects fewer than one in a million people, but it was almost unheard of in children, especially not in someone as young as Chrissy.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to believe it myself,” she said. “I had two separate pathologists review the tumor. Our office has contacted the Huntsman Cancer Institute, and we’ve scheduled an appointment for Chrissy with Dr. Cindy Matsen. She specializes in breast surgery. The appointment is tomorrow at 11:00 a.m.”

I could barely form words. I was in shock. My baby had cancer. I had to tell my husband. I was shaking as I walked out of work, my hands trembling so badly I could hardly dial the phone. When Cody answered, we both broke down. I don’t even remember the conversation. All I could feel was a searing pain in my chest as we both cried together. My heart shattered as I said the words out loud, “She has cancer.”

I don’t remember much of the drive home. It’s all a blur. What I do remember is walking into our house, the weight of the world on my shoulders. I dropped my things on the table and collapsed onto the kitchen floor, tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My heart was broken in ways I never thought possible.

Cody arrived home about 20 minutes later. He came into the kitchen, saw me on the floor, and began to cry. We held each other, both of us in shock, repeating over and over, “Not our baby girl. How could this happen?” The world seemed to stop spinning. We were in disbelief. And then we knew—we had to tell our oldest daughter, Brianna.

We drove to Brianna’s high school. When she saw us crying, her face drained of color. Tears welled up in her eyes as she asked, “Mommy and Daddy, what’s wrong?” We told her, and as we spoke the words, she broke down in front of us. Her friends, who were nearby, came over to comfort her. The sadness in their eyes mirrored our own. Brianna’s world was changing, too.

The next stop was Chrissy’s school. We had to tell her. We had to break the news to our eight-year-old daughter that she had cancer. How do you even begin to say those words to your child? How do you explain something so life-altering to someone so young?

When Chrissy walked to the office to meet us, she could see it on our faces. She knew something was wrong. She asked, “What’s going on, Mommy? What’s wrong?” I took a deep breath and said, “Sweetie, we’ve got some tough news to share. You have cancer.”

Her face crumpled as she tried to understand what we had said. The tears started to fall from her eyes as she looked at us with confusion and fear. “No, Mommy, no,” she whispered. We hugged her tightly, promising that we would fight this together, that she was not alone.

The next days were filled with doctor visits, tests, and meetings with specialists. But even in the face of this devastating news, Chrissy’s strength never wavered. She amazed us with her courage, and though the road ahead was uncertain, we knew that we would face it as a family—together.

Chrissy’s battle with cancer began in ways we never expected, but her journey has shown us the incredible power of love, family, and resilience. Even in the darkest of times, she remains our light, our inspiration.

Today, we continue to fight, to cherish each moment, and to hope for a future where Chrissy will thrive. She is our miracle, our warrior, and the heart of our family. We will never stop fighting for her.