In the fall of 1988, my mother learned she had breast cancer. That’s hardly a surprising diagnosis in my family. Twenty years before, my grandmother received the same bad news.
At the time, I was days away from delivering my second child, convinced that a little brother for my four-year-old son was on the way. Mama started brainstorming girls’ names instead. At the top of her list was Gabrielle Marie (Marie is my middle name).
Mama turned out to be right–when I gave birth to a daughter on October 17, I gave her the name my mother chose for her. Two weeks later, Mama had her mastectomy.
I’m happy to say my 83-year-old mother, Virginia, is a survivor. My grandmother lived until the age of 87 (she would have been 102 this month). On October 29, Gabby and I are walking on behalf of the strong women in our family and for dear friends who’ve had breast cancer.
The link to my page is below: