Telling Your Young Kids About Your Breast Cancer

I have two young kids. A daughter who will be 7 in November and a son who will be 5 in October. When I found out I had breast cancer, one of my first thoughts was how will this affect them and how will we tell them in an age appropriate way? Normally when it comes to trying to figure out best parenting practices, I talk to friends, I research articles and read books. But when I first learned I had breast cancer, trying to establish my treatment plan became a part time job, on top of my actual job and my other responsibilities. Plus I was so overwhelmed by all the unknowns in the first couple of weeks – size of the tumor(s) and extent of the spread – I did not have the capacity to take in new info about “best practices” when it comes to telling your kids about cancer.

Before my husband and I told our kids about my cancer, I was nervous about two things – that this news would contribute to the loss of their childhood innocence, and that we would be dealing with a lot of dysregulation in their behavior as they navigated big feelings without having the social emotion intelligence yet to express their emotions.

We decided we would not tell the kids until we were closer to the first treatment. Since their understanding of time is pretty moment to moment, I did not want to tell them about an upcoming surgery and then have them sit in a nebulous space of unknown while they waited for something they could not really comprehend.

In the four weeks between when I was diagnosed and when we sat the kids down to tell them, a very valuable lesson was reinforced and I know that it will serve me as I move forward on my parenting journey. What I observed in that month-long time period is that kids react more towards their parents’ energy and how much anxiety and overwhelm is present in the household, then to the information you are sharing with them. Right after I was diagnosed and for the first 10 days, I was a mess. Anxious, overwhelmed, scared. Every test and the waiting for results that followed sent me into a fatalistic spiral. And even though my kids had no idea what was happening, they were clingy, and short on patience. My son reverted to expressing his feelings through anger and physicality (usually pushing his sister or just being very uptight and angry) and my daughter was a lot easier to fall into a crying spiral at a moment’s notice (these are both of their go-to coping mechanisms when they are dysregulated).

But as we got more clarity on my treatment and I started to realize I had control over the lens I was viewing this diagnosis through, I became much calmer and more regulated myself, As my anxiety diminished, my kids fell back into a better rhythm (and just for complete transparency, a better rhythm does not mean that my kids morphed into obedient angels. When they fell apart, things just felt a little less hard once I found my inner calm). I also let go of my fear that I would permanently traumatize them as I realized that I could present cancer in a way that would guide them on how to handle this diagnosis, And as long as I was (most of the time) staying on top of my anxiety and overwhelm by utilizing the tools I had learned through my yoga and mindfulness practices, they would take the lead from me.

As my fear dissipated, I felt clearer on what I wanted to say about my cancer journey and how I wanted to say it. I did get advice from a friend with young kids who is in active cancer treatment. She recommended the non-profit Bright Spot Network, which is an amazing resource for families who are going through this process.  And I started to put together a framework of what was important for me to get across to my kids when we finally sat down to talk.

1. Honesty and real words – I decided to use the word cancer. I explained the medical process as clearly as possible. What was going to happen to me, how I would heal. What my limitations would be. I also did not promise them I would be fine. I will be fine (I am sure of it), but there is no way that any of us can promise something like that, so we left it out of the conversation. And luckily it was not one of the questions asked. I feel grateful for not having to have that really hard conversation. I know other families do and I commend those families for their bravery.
2. Highlight our foundational family values – It was really important to me to highlight that one of the values of our family, and really of the family unit in general, is that we take care of one another. This was an opportunity for daddy and the kids to provide support for mommy and to take care of her, because that is what being a family is all about. I also wanted to speak to the fact that we approach challenges in our family as opportunities to learn and grow. And there will be hardships that are faced in life, but that just makes the easier times that much sweeter.
3. Not approaching cancer from a fear based starting point –  I spoke about how cool surgery is and how grateful we are that we have good support and a good community. I did not use the word sick as I did not want my kids to think they can catch cancer from me. And this is not to say that there are not scary moments in the process I am going through, but our mindset tends to go to a fear based place to protect ourselves, and I am trying to have more of a gratitude mindset and live in a place of abundance instead of scarcity.
4. Address the surgery now, the chemo later – Because my kids are young and can only process so much at one time, I decided to just focus on the first procedure and what that would be like for me and my family. We will let them know about chemo and all those lovely side effects when we are closer to starting that chapter.
5. Let them lead the questioning – I learned a while ago that kids only ask as many questions on a topic that they are able to process, and you should answer just the question asked, and in simple terms that are age appropriate.

I picked a day that I felt calm and steady, my bucket was full and I could hold space for my kids and any emotions that came up. And my steadiness translated directly to them. It was a week before my surgery when we sat down and the conversation went fine. The relief I felt that we had gotten through the conversation was palpable. And the fact that my husband and I had been calm and grounded came through and helped my kids feel safe.

The two weeks since my surgery have been relatively smooth in terms of the kids emotions and how we as a family are navigating my healing process. There have been a couple of rough mornings, a few challenging evenings, but not a lot more than there  usually are in our house. Modeling calm is a big part of that, but the fact that my husband could take time off work to take over all kid duties and keep the routine consistent played a big roll as well. I feel very blessed that he was able to be at home to support me and my healing. I am aware that not all families have the same flexibility and I have immense gratitude for our good fortune.

I am grateful for the lesson I learned from this part of my cancer journey. Or I think it would be more accurate to say, the lesson I finally allowed to sink in and am now committed to integrating into my parenting. And that is the lesson that young kids are paying attention to the emotions you model in your household more than what you are telling them (now this is a lesson that has shown up many times throughout the last 7 years, but I have not embodied it until now – thanks cancer for driving it home!!). I know that some days it will be really hard to not feel anxiety. I will definitely have my days where I feel angry or sad or scared; I will not be able to stay in a positive mindset and lead by example all the time. But I will work on giving myself the same grace when I am feeling those feelings that I try to give to my kids. Because as valuable as it is to model calm, it is also important to model that emotions are not scary and it is important to learn how to sit in your discomfort.