Cancer is every parent’s worst nightmare, especially when it involves children. Shelby and Jonathan initially believed their two-year-old daughter, Sophie, was suffering from allergies. She struggled to breathe, and her treating physician suspected asthma.
However, the situation soon took a grim turn. Just days before Sophie’s scheduled allergy test, she stopped breathing one night – a nightmare for any parent. Shelby and Jonathan rushed to call for an ambulance, and within minutes, they were on their way to the hospital. It was only then that doctors confirmed Sophie was battling something far more severe than asthma or allergies; she had developed T-cell lymphoma – cancer.
Since that fateful night, Sophie has spent several months in the hospital, enduring grueling chemotherapy sessions. Despite her fierce determination, cancer continued to ravage her body, affecting her ability to walk, talk, eat, and use her hands. Currently, preparations are underway for a stem cell transplant operation. Sophie’s mother, Shelby, has been by her side throughout this journey.
Often overwhelmed with caregiving responsibilities, she completely forgot about herself. All that matters to her is seeing Sophie recover. They wanted an easy way for family and friends to stay updated on Sophie’s progress, leading to the creation of “Brave Sophie.” Remarkably, this page garnered the attention of more than 12,000 people, extending beyond just Sophie’s loved ones.
Amidst all the heartfelt posts, one message, in particular, struck a chord with mothers who had sick children. Shelby’s message was dedicated to the nurses and hospital staff caring for Sophie. “I see you,” she wrote. “I’ve been sitting on this couch all day, and I see you. You try so hard to be invisible to me and my child.
I see your face turn sad when she sees you and starts crying. You come up with inventive ways to ease her fears and comfort her. I see you hesitate to take her blood and remove those band-aids from her tiny arm. You say ‘it won’t hurt’ and ‘I’m sorry’ more times in a day than most people say ‘thank you.
I see all those rubber bracelets on your wrist and the stethoscope, each one representing a child you’ve cared for and loved. I see you patting her little bald head and tucking her in with a blanket.
