9 Things Breast Cancer Taught Me About Raising Teens

In the summer of 2021, just weeks before my 40th birthday, I got the devastating news that 1 in 8 women will receive—I was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I had found a small lump near my armpit, and it had spread to my lymph nodes. I carry the BRCA1 gene mutation and was diagnosed stage 3 breast cancer. My then 15-year-old son was the first person I saw after getting the shocking call. With zero composure, I crumpled into his arms in the first significant role reversal of our relationship. Bigger than me, he didn’t cry, and comforted me simply with his presence.

Now, after surgery, chemo, radiation, integrative care, and now no evidence of disease (yay!), I have been reflecting on what has been one hell of a journey. And what stands out a lot, is that my approach to parenting—while still built on a foundation of family values—has drastically shifted.

Here’s what I learned:

1.Let go of control. Seriously, lower the bar.

A cancer diagnosis—or any serious life-altering changes—forces a person to look inward. A world once expansive with karate lessons, school plays, and book club, shrinks to remembering to stay hydrated and making it to weekly doctor’s appointments. Only activities that were absolutely necessary mattered while my brain was in survival mode. That’s all I could control. During this time, did my family waver? 100 percent. My oldest teen’s grades dropped to D’s. My husband had restless nights. They were all in survival mode, too. (Remember this is also during COVID.) Was I concerned for their well-being? Of course. Was there anything I could do about it? Nope. Not this time. Mom could not come to the rescue.

As we all gained our bearings and trended toward a new normal, the lesson remained: I must have my oxygen mask on first before I can take care of others. My family is no longer micro-managed (albeit unwittingly) by me. I say yes, a lot. I trust a lot. I don’t stress like I used to. I can’t remember the last time I had a power struggle with either of my teens. And it’s been great for us all.

2. Teens still process through play.

This one surprised me. While play looks different for older kids—think pop culture and school interactions—I had windows into how my kids were using creative outside outlets to process what was happening. My 16-year-old watched all five seasons of Breaking Bad. (Before diagnosis, this would never have been allowed. See lessons #1 and #3.) While some of the action and drama was surely the draw, the main story line is a parent who has cancer and wants to take care of their family. Frequent scenes with doctors appointments and family dynamics around diagnosis and treatment pepper the storyline. My therapist and I agree, this was one way for my kid to make sense of what was happening.

In school, a history project had to show how our family line has been affected by historical events. My son drew a giant awareness ribbon, filled with facts about the evolution of health care and surgery options for breast cancer patients. Surely, researching, writing, and coloring were all therapeutic.

3. Let them be.

Of course, health and safety boundaries still exist, but otherwise, I no longer question my sons’ choices. During my “non-parenting” phase when I was only focused on treatment, they showed me even more that they are their own people. Tomorrow is never guaranteed but I now know that they would be OK no matter what happened. Do they want to go all day with their doors closed on video games only to emerge for meals in the evening? That’s fine with me. They are bright and engaged when we do interact.

Do they want to handle their homework on their own (even if non-existent) schedule? By all means. Who am I to determine the best time for them to get their work done? They are perfectly capable of listening to their inner voice and managing their own time and priorities. I don’t need to do any of that anymore. And it’s liberating. They know I’m here when they need me.

4. Carve out time for fun.

While the above lessons are all about coming of age and resiliency, this one is about letting loose. Teens are still kids after all. For Mother’s Day, my almost 13-year-old made me a card that included five things he loves about me. (Be still my heart.) And one that stood out is that he appreciated that I made time for having fun. It’s not something I had noticed, but as I reflected, I remembered that during my windows of strength, we did things like go to the movies, play board games, or make a trek into nature. To celebrate finishing treatment, we went to Disneyland. Making memories together is essential in our family, and now that my son pointed that out so blatantly, I am even more intentional in finding time to laugh, play, and let loose.

5. Be discretionary - but tell the truth.

I had to be honest about my diagnosis with my kids. I would read straight from doctor’s notes and chemo pamphlets. I shared blood work and we looked up medical terms together. Having the facts helped us cope and created a safe place for transparency. Did they need to know the ins-and-outs of prognosis? No. The risks of chemo or recurrence? No. But did they deserve to know what was happening medically? Absolutely.

6. Get your affairs in order.

Facing the fear of death at 40 knocked a little sense into me when it comes to legacy planning. Preparing an advanced directive, an updated will, and if you’re a little grim like me, even preparing your goodbye letters and funeral playlist, is important. While somewhat unsettling to do this type of preparation, it’s ultimately comforting to know that these crucial documents are in place.

7. They may be at risk for cancer, too.

Family health history matters. My father had pancreatic cancer, his mom and aunt both had ovarian cancer, my uncles had prostate cancer and a cousin had the same diagnosis as me. That’s because we all carry the BRCA1 gene mutation—making us more susceptible to developing cancer. My sons have a 50/50 chance of inheriting the gene mutation. They can make a choice at the age of 18 on whether to get genetic counseling and testing. If they know their risk ahead of time, there are preventative measures they can take. Knowledge is power.

8. They grow up fast.

While we can all agree that the pandemic warped our sense of time, I can’t even believe the first year of the “Big C” flew by so quickly. In the darkest days of chemo, time seemed at a standstill. And now, I have an eighth grader and a Junior in high school. Blink. Blink. I’m now looking into the future with a deeper understanding of how quickly time flies, how precious this one life is, and am dreaming big and making plans.

9. You’re still mom.

“Hey mom! What’s for dinner?” may be an expression I never tire of hearing. Though my perspective on what truly matters has shifted, and my teens had to expedite some maturity factors that I would never wish on anyone, the fact remains that I’m still their mom. They know—maybe even more so—that a relationship with their parent in the ultimate state of vulnerability and uncertainty, is still one that they can rely on. We are all a little more understanding of the human condition, and our parent/child bond has not only sustained, it has thrived. And for that, I am truly grateful.