In Sickness and Health- The Bond Between Mother and Daughter

There are some moments in motherhood that become turning points. Some are painful, and some are so joyful they’re remembered forever. This is one of my turning points that I hope to always remember.

The excitement was more than I could have imagined. Standing in the kitchen, my counters cluttered, my busy day stood still when it finally happened for us. I had wondered if I would even get this experience I had longed for. I felt complete exhilaration when I actually did.

Months before, I had just finished chemotherapy after being diagnosed with cancer during pregnancy. Yes, it is possible to receive cancer treatments while pregnant. And yes, it is possible for it to be safe for the baby, too. There are many chemotherapy medicines that do not cross the placenta. It truly is amazing.

This time was an incredibly trying time for our family. Not only was I diagnosed with cancer while pregnant, but then the world was affected by the Covid-19 Pandemic. My support system became much more virtual than it was before. Because of the combination of my treatments and the pandemic, my husband was not able to work and began staying home with me full-time. This is a situation I truly never will take for granted.

Our daughter’s birth was planned to take place between chemotherapy treatments, ensuring her safe arrival. Her birth was truly amazing. I feel that miracles took place to bring her to us so smoothly.

Just two weeks after giving birth, still sore from all that birth entails, I left my baby at home with her dad, drove myself to the cancer center, and continued receiving chemotherapy.

Part of my treatment plan included outpatient chemotherapy, which means I was able to be at home while still receiving the medicine through a portable IV. I was connected to this IV for days at a time. During these periods, I could only safely hold my daughter while she was sleeping. When her body was completely relaxed, I knew she wouldn’t be able to touch or pull on the IV. Chemotherapy is so harmful to the touch, that some nurses choose to wear hazmat suits to protect themselves while administering it. The thought of these medicines accidentally touching my baby was horrifying to me. Holding her while she slept was the safest option for us.

As one might imagine, because of the treatments, I was very sick for the first few months of our daughter’s life. My husband had become the full-time caretaker for both me and our daughter. It was hard for me to have the strength to get out of bed as I was still finishing treatments. During this sweet newborn stage, our baby was most often held, fed, and in general taken care of by her dad.

Her dad was the one that did skin to skin most often. He is the one who knew the special secrets that could calm her cries. I would simply watch, my body in a constant state of exhaustion, feeling in awe of this magic that they were able to share with each other.

I received my last chemotherapy treatment when our little one was two months old. Slowly, very slowly, I began to regain strength. Able to stand for longer periods. Able to cook a meal. Able to engage in conversation without feeling out of breath. I was starting to learn how to function again and what my new capacities were.

As I began to regain strength and energy, I grew in my abilities to physically care for our baby. I was able to spend more time with her and engage in more interactions. I was finally able to pick her up and have the strength to hold her! Even so, it was clear that her father was the favored parent. There were many times in those early days that I would pick her up as she cried, attempting to soothe her, and she would only scream louder. Her father would take her from my arms and her cries would begin to settle.

It was painful to see that I was not her main source of comfort. I couldn’t help or take back that I was sick when she was born, but I wished I could. It was during these times that I would wonder if we would ever have that special attachment that a mom shares with her daughter. Would she ever turn to me, or has my physical absence in the beginning of her life ruined that for us?

Talking with my husband after a long day of work, we stood in the kitchen waiting for dinner to be ready. I watched over the food on the stove, while he held our daughter. I walked away from the stove to talk for a bit, and that’s when our daughter reached for me.

It was her first reach, so she was new at it. I was standing close as her father held her in his arms. She leaned forward with her whole body, trusting that she would land in my embrace. I caught her, held her close, and then my jaw dropped.

“Did she just reach for me?!” I shouted to my husband. “She just reached for you!” he shouted back.

I was the first person that she reached for. I had worried for so long, wondering if we would have a strong connection. After months of working to regain my physical strength and build my relationship with her, my daughter had finally reached for me. I felt hope that maybe my sickness wasn’t detrimental to our relationship after all. There was hope that everything could be repaired.

Today, my daughter reaches for me on a regular basis. She raises her arms as I walk into a room. While trying to work on something alone, she will squawk, asking that I come pick her up. I smile, and my mind goes back to the days when I wondered if she would ever feel very close to me. I pick her up and hold her tight, feeling how miraculous it is that we have this special bond.

KELSEY CICHOSKI is a mother to two- a child in heaven and a child on earth. Her motherhood journey so far has consisted of being a foster mom to a group of siblings, losing her first baby to incompetent cervix, and then receiving a cancer diagnosis and chemotherapy treatments during her second pregnancy. Through these experiences, she has found peace through writing. She hopes that by sharing, you can also feel a little bit of peace. Kelsey is writing from Nevada, USA.