When the “Healthy Child” gets sick

For years, our family’s focus has been on keeping Hudson alive. Every day since his diagnosis, my heart has been wrapped around the words scan, treatment, hospital, oncology. It’s almost like my mind made a deal with my body, This is where the worry belongs. This is the child we have to fight for. This is the child that will always be medically complex.

But then life throws you a curveball.

Penelopi my “healthy one” compared to her brother now faces her own surgery. Two nodules have appeared near her collarbone. We found these over the summer and have finally reached this point. The doctors will biopsy them, and if possible, remove them during the procedure.

I keep repeating the facts to myself: This is not a search for cancer. This is precaution. This is about answers. My conscious mind knows the truth. And yet…

My anxiety went through gtg rid about everything in my life, without any reason as to why.

My therapist gently pointed out something I hadn’t realized. In my subconscious, the words biopsy and cancer are fused together. They feel like the same word, the same outcome, the same heartbreak. Even though I know they’re not.

It’s like my body is holding its breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because we’ve walked this road before.

My body is panicking internally and I didn’t even know it.

This time it’s different, and yet my chest feels the same tightness. The anxiety doesn’t ask for facts. It doesn’t pause for reason. It just moves forward, carrying the weight of every hospital hallway, every doctor’s word, every memory of when life turned upside down the first time.

But then God meets me right in the middle of that storm.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:6–7)

My flesh may tremble, but my spirit knows where to run.

So here we are, the “healthy” child gets sick, and I’m learning that my heart and my brain doesn’t separate them.

Both children carry my prayers, my fears, my desperate hope for tomorrow. And more than that, they both are covered by the peace of God that surpasses my understanding, even when the future feels uncertain.

I don’t have a neat ending for this story yet. Just a mama sitting in the middle of it, whispering prayers, clinging to His Word, and trusting that His peace will guard us through whatever comes.