When Your Child’s Life Hangs by a Thread
- dellanienash9
- Jan 2
- 2 min read
Gratitude: New Year’s Eve Reflections
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about why gratitude has become something I hold onto so tightly.
When Maya was diagnosed back in April 2017, she was just three years and nine months old. Stage IV neuroblastoma. The doctors told me she only had days — maybe 10 to 14 at most. I never told anyone that. I just kept saying, over and over: “Maya will be okay.”
Eighteen months of brutal, relentless treatment followed. And then, in September 2018, she reached NEAD — no evidence of active disease. From 2019 to 2020, she even took part in a clinical trial at Memorial Sloan Kettering in New York, all in the hope of keeping relapse away.
As bad luck would have it, Maya relapsed in July 2023. And relapsed again in July 2024. Terry and I stood steadfast that no matter how hard it got, we would always show up for Maya. Every single day. Even when I didn’t know where I was finding the strength.
Gratitude for me isn’t about pretending everything’s okay. It never has been. I feel everything — the fear, the ache, the longing for a normal childhood for Maya. I fall apart sometimes. I let out an ugly cry. But I’ve also learned to cling to gratitude because it grounds me.
Maya’s journey has never been easy, and it still isn’t. But when her life was hanging by a thread, the noise of the world faded, and all that really mattered was love, presence, and stubborn hope. That’s when gratitude became my anchor.
From Maya, I learnt just how fragile life is — how fast things can change and how nothing is ever guaranteed. I’ve been in that place where all you ask for is one more day, one more memory, one more chance to hold your child close.
Hence I always wake up thankful. Not because the pain has gone, but because I know what it’s like to live without promises. Ordinary days became extraordinary the moment I realised we were never owed them in the first place.
The joy I carry, stubborn hope, my strength — it all comes from surviving moments I never imagined I would.
You’ll always see me smiling, carrying a brave face, and yet there’s gratitude in my heart that runs deep. It’s because I once made a quiet promise in the darkest days: that if Terry and I were given more time with Maya, we’d be fully present, open-hearted, and thankful — even on the hardest days. Especially on those unimaginable days.
And to any parent walking a path you never asked for: if gratitude is the thing that keeps you going, hold onto it. Tightly. It doesn’t mean you aren’t hurting. It just means you know how precious every single moment truly is.
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