30/04/2025
So… as of right now..
YA GIRL IS STABLE!
And honestly, just typing those words feels surreal. I haven’t been able to say that in over a year, a whole year of uncertainty, fear, and relentless “what ifs.” But today, I get to pause. I get to take a breath and share a little hope with you. Because for the next 3 months, we’re not sprinting toward panic. We’re walking cautiously, carefully towards whatever’s next.
Don’t get me wrong, I know how quickly things can change. One scan, one symptom, and suddenly the rug’s pulled again. That’s the reality of living with stage 4 cancer it doesn’t clock out. It doesn’t care that I’ve got dreams, or plans, or two beautiful babies who need their mumma more than anything. That’s why I’m still searching. Still fighting. Still looking into every alternative treatment out there, anywhere I can find it.
And I get it some people might wonder, “Why keep going? Why not just accept it?”
But the answer is simple…I have two little people but big reasons.
They’re 6 and 2. They’re my world. I didn’t bring them into this life to watch me disappear before they even have real memories of us together. I want to see school drop-offs and birthdays and scraped knees and sleepy cuddles and all the chaos and love that comes with being their mum. I want TIME. And if there’s even a 1% chance of more of it I’m going to chase it.
Right now, physically, I’m okay. I’m not in pain and I hold onto that as a blessing. I truly believe my strength comes from my kids. They have no idea the weight I carry daily, but somehow they lift it with their hugs, their giggles, their stubborn tantrums, their sticky little hands in mine. They keep me grounded when everything else feels like it’s floating away.
My oldest doesn’t really understand how poorly Mummy is, but she knows something’s not right. She knows Mummy is unwell, that there’s a “baddy lump” inside that’s made me sick. And in the gentlest, most innocent ways, we’ve had conversations I never imagined I’d have with a six year old. These are the words no parent ever wants to speak and no child should have to hear but we’re navigating them the only way we know how with honesty, love, and so many cuddles.
They don’t know they’re saving me, piece by piece, just by being exactly who they are. On the days I feel like I’m slipping, they are my anchor. My why. My reason to keep showing up, no matter how heavy it gets.
But the truth? Chemo is rough. It’s a weekly war on my body. The side effects are real fatigue, nausea, nose bleeds the endless brain fog but the hardest part isn’t even physical. It’s mental , It’s the psychological toll of knowing the clock is ticking. It’s staring your mortality in the face and still having to pack lunches and wipe noses and pretend like everything’s fine.
This is the scariest, loneliest, most vulnerable chapter of my life… and I’m sharing it because I know I’m not in this alone.
I’ve cried reading all the messages, Ive felt lifted by everyone that has shown kindness, and reminded over and over again that there is still so much good in the world.
Because this journey is far from over. Every share, every donation, every single act of love helps me fight for more time. More memories. More mornings & more kisses good night to the ones that carry my heart daily.
Please continue to share and keep me and my small team in your thoughts. Words can’t fully express how grateful I am for the support of this little community during the darker days.
With all my love,
Sky💖
Ps. There is a reason to these long posts, but when I write these posts to update you all they are also words for my children. If I don’t make it to see them grow, I want them to know exactly what their mummy did to be with them.
