After her diagnosis, our life became hospital visits, treatments, and trying to stay strong for our little girl who didn’t understand why Mommy was always tired.
I worked, cooked, cared for our daughter, and smiled for everyone—but inside, I was breaking.
One night in the hospital, I told my wife I didn’t know how to do this without her.
She squeezed my hand and whispered something I’ll never forget:
“You were never supposed to fix this… only to love me through it.”
I broke down right there.
That was two years ago.
She’s still fighting. Some days are harder than others—but every morning together feels like a miracle we never take for granted.
