The night my daughter was born, she was under a little duress and needed to be attended to by a neonatal specialist. There was nothing wrong with her, just a slightly below average heartbeat that quickly recovered. While she was getting checked, it meant she did not immediately go to her mother. Rather, I stayed with her as the doctors checked and measured and probed. Before she was put in her mom’s arms, I got to stay with her and offer a calming, loving voice in the pandemonium of the delivery room. I still remember her little hand grabbing onto my finger and not letting go.

I truly believe there is a special bond between father and daughter and then a separate one between mother and son. I have my little princess that can wrap me around her finger in two seconds and ask for (and most likely get) the world, while my son has an influence and talent to make my wife melt with shaping his hands into a heart and saying, “Mommy is beautiful as flowers!”

It was no wonder then that the absolute hardest thing I have had to do with this diagnosis is tell our children that I have cancer.

My daughter’s only reference to the disease is the passing of a father of one of her classmates, last year in Second Grade. Great! Why did her only reference have to be about a father’s death? That was going to make taking about me with cancer that much harder. So with that in mind, my wife and I decided to slowly expose her to the full extent of my sickness, but that, in the end, we would be truthful and not hid anything from her.

My kids have known for the better part of the past six months that I have been having some stomach issues. So, after the initial diagnosis, on the first Saturday morning, I asked my daughter to go for a run with me. It is something we do regularly. I run and she follows along with her bike. We have great chats and talks as we explore our neighborhood on foot and peddle.

Usually, half way through our bike/run, we’ll stop for a water break. This time, though, when we stopped, I had us sit on some benches we found in a small clearing of trees. As I sat down and tried to get the words out of my mouth, waves of emotions broke over me. We still didn’t know the accurate staging of my cancer at this time. So, I simply told her, through misty eyes and a verklempt voice, I have to get surgery on my stomach because I have an soar. She became emotional, but immediately supportive. There were still ten days of school left, so I told her I would let her teacher know in case she got sad in school or wanted to talk to someone about it. Her teacher was great and even surprised her with a small stuffed animal to make her feel better.

About two weeks pasted before we knew for sure what stage of cancer I had and we started talking to more people. Word was eventually going to make it back to my daughter that I had cancer, if I didn’t tell her first.

Taking advantage of a beautiful late spring afternoon, my daughter, my wife, and I went on a bike ride together. My daughter would frequently ask about when I am going to have surgery and how long I would be in the hospital. With half answers up to this point, we once again found some nice benches off a bike path and sat down to talk.

I just came right out and said that I have cancer. I re-assured her that I would be fine, after I went through some treatment and surgery. After I talked, I asked her if she had any questions or what her thoughts were. What a kid! She is amazingly resilient and strong. She just wanted me to get better and hoped and prayed that I wouldn’t have any problems with the surgery. She went on to say how she would pray for me every day and that she would fast for me every Sunday…for at least an hour, no less!

I know her prayers are heard. 

As for my son, what can you expect a 5 year old to understand about cancer? We have told him that I am sick and have to be very careful when we play. But he also knows that I am home almost every day and serve as his Mario Party pal – in fact, today Princess Peach and Rosalina didn’t stand a chance…we crushed them 9 ⭐️s to 3 ⭐️s!

Through his limited understanding, though, he prays for me all the time (or makes sure anyone saying a prayer blesses me to get better). He also, no quite randomly, will just come up to me and say, “Daddy, you are the best dad ever!” And we have perfected the elbow tap as an alternative kiss/hug when his hands aren’t clean or I can’t be touched (due to my chemo pump).

I know his little prayers are also heard.

My kids have been with me every step of the way as I have started out on this new journey. One thing is for sure as I make my way forward, I will always hold on to them and never let go!