When I gaze at my partner, I can’t help but envision two distinct realities: one where he’s by my side, and another where he isn’t. In the first scenario, I feel tranquil and fulfilled; in the second, I am adrift and transformed.
Watching him tenderly tuck our kids into bed each night, I’m reminded of how narrowly we avoided a future without them. This realization halts me in my tracks, constricting my breath. How could I navigate this world without my beloved family?
This close call became a reality 14 years ago, just a year and a half after our wedding, when my husband was diagnosed with a rare and often fatal cancer. Our dreams of building a life together and raising a family seemed as unlikely as his survival.
Now, as I watch him in his “man cave”—our converted garage—doing pull-ups and lifting weights, I often feel a wave of gratitude mixed with bewilderment. Given he was given less than a 10 percent chance of living beyond five years after his initial diagnosis, we both know that many others diagnosed with adrenal carcinoma back in 2001 weren’t as fortunate. I can’t help but think how few of them are able to run morning miles or kiss their children goodnight—if those children even exist.
When Sheryl Sandberg shared her heart-wrenching note about her late husband, Dave, who tragically passed away while exercising in Mexico, I felt a deep empathy for her and her family. Her words resonated with me, and my heart ached for the pain they are enduring.
Sandberg wrote: “When tragedy strikes, it offers a choice. You can succumb to the void, the emptiness that constricts your heart and mind, or you can seek out meaning. These past thirty days, I’ve found myself lost in that void, and I know that future moments will echo that emptiness. But when I can, I want to choose life and meaning.”
During my husband’s toughest battles with his illness, I often felt trapped in that void. When doctors compared his treatment to rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic, I felt I was drowning too. Nights spent on lumpy hospital chairs made me confront the unthinkable: how would I cope if my beloved partner were taken from me? Would I remain trapped in sorrow, forever tasting the bitterness of loss?
Thankfully, I never had to face that grim reality. Luck was on our side. My husband defied the odds, and for that, I express my gratitude daily—whether to a higher power or just the whims of chance. I hold him and our children close, sometimes to the point where they roll their eyes and say, “Okay, Mom! Enough!” But deep down, I know they appreciate it. They cannot fathom how deeply I treasure every hug.
Sometimes, we sit on our porch swing, swaying in silence. We don’t need to voice our awareness of our narrow escape; our gratitude is palpable, and we remind each other often. We actively choose life and meaning, fully aware that this choice is much easier now that we’ve dodged a bullet.
If you cherish your partner, your children, and your life, lean into it—embrace every moment and let them know how much they mean to you. Go ahead, tell them right now! And if you’re curious about home insemination, check out this post on intrauterine insemination, or explore Cryobaby’s home insemination kit for more information.
In summary, my husband and I have learned to appreciate every moment, choosing to focus on life and love after narrowly escaping a tragic fate.