Robyn Quesada

Robyn Quesada reflects on watching her mother’s breast cancer battle from age 12, sharing lessons of empathy, strength, and family love over 25 years.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was 12 and in the 6th grade. I did not really know what that meant or entailed. I was a kid with a sick mother. Occasionally, I’d see or hear her throwing up in the toilet. Her hair fell out, she gained weight, her face was bloated. I saw her with one breast intact. I can picture the bra she wore with a fake ‘boob’ inside to fill the missing link.

One day, my mom came home from an outing. On top of her head was a wig. As a tween, my 1st reaction wasn’t about my mother, it was about how I felt. And I did not hold back on that. I let my mother know that I hated it through words and tears. I ran up to my room. I thought how embarrassing it would be to have people see my mother with this fake, fluffy hair.

Some days, she would wear the wig, despite it being super itchy. Other days, she would say screw it and walk around with some very, very thin hair atop her head. From age 0 to 12, I had this beautiful-looking mother with brown flowing hair. And now she was almost unrecognizable. Where had MY mother gone and why would someone do this to her? To us?

My mom felt a lump when she was pregnant with my sister. She had to wait until she gave birth in order to have a mammogram. She got the grim news when she was only 41 — with a newborn, 9, and 12-year-old. For eight years, she fought. At 49, I held her hand in the hospital. I tried to say goodbye the best way I could, but I had no privacy. Doctors and nurses were looking through the window, and I felt rushed. Shortly after my brief time with her, she passed.

When I think of how I saw my mother at ages 12 to 20 versus how I see her now, over 25 years later, perspective is the number one word that comes to mind. Embarrassment is completely washed away with admiration. Innocence is replaced with full understanding. Bluntness squashed by empathy. Bald and breastless now rising to the top as the most beautiful warrior ever seen. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. What they don’t say is how much one’s eye can change throughout life’s journey.

As a 47-year-old mom now with three kids of my own, I can only hope to show the type of courage to my children that she showed to me. Even if I do, they won’t understand or appreciate it now. But they will.

I try to imagine all of the thoughts, fears, and worries running through my mom’s head when she found the lump. Knowing that it was there and that there was nothing she could do about it but wait. Then to be given the news shortly after having a baby. Giving birth in itself is absolutely exhausting. She was never given the chance to fully recover. She needed to go right into Wonder Woman mode.

How did she still manage to make dinner every night? Keep on top of all of the laundry? Help with all school-related activities? How did she keep going with a smile on her face? As a teen, I just saw it as being a mom. But presently, I am in awe. I am a relatively healthy female, and I find day-to-day living exhausting. I run out of steam by 3 p.m. every day. But she kept going and going. No matter what.

Getting dressed each morning is a pain in the ass. This shirt makes me look blah. These pants are too tight. This color does not suit me. How did my mom feel getting ready each and every morning? It wasn’t about fashion or looking good. It was about putting on her specialty bra, inserting a boob mold, and finding a shirt that buttoned up to make it easiest. Didn’t matter what brand it was or how it fit her figure. Then she would make the decision of being natural with a mostly bald head or wearing an itchy wig. Each and every morning.

If I could go back to talk to my 12 to 20-year-old self, this is what I’d say:

Love people whole heartedly- despite flaws, differing views, on their good days and bad days. You only get one lifetime to show it.

Always be empathetic. Even if someone has a huge smile on their face, you never know what they may be facing. If they are looking sad, maybe a simple hello could change their day or even their life.

Don’t put things off. If you want to do it, then do it. There is no such thing as the perfect time.

Respect and love your parents. You would not be here without them. Yeah they can drive you crazy but they mean well. Don’t take that for granted.

Cherish every single moment. When we are young we may roll our eyes at having to do things with the family. Those same eyes will look back at the memories with water in them.

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Articles

The narrative reflects on a daughter's evolving perspective of her mother's battle with breast cancer, from initial embarrassment to profound admiration. It highlights the mother's resilience and strength in managing daily life while undergoing treatment. The daughter, now a mother herself, gains a deeper understanding of her mother's courage and the challenges she faced. The story emphasizes the importance of empathy, love, and cherishing moments with loved ones. It serves as a poignant reminder of the transformative power of perspective and the enduring impact of a parent's strength.

Robyn Quesada

Growing from Embarrassment to Admiration of My Mother’s Breast Cancer

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