What hit me even harder than the diagnosis was Nathan’s response. My husband, the man I thought would stand by me through anything, left me. He said it was “too hard for Hazel to see her mom like this.” His words stung, but the worst part was the decision he made — he took our little daughter, Hazel, and moved out. He promised it would only be temporary, that he would be back once things settled down.
But the calls slowly faded. The texts became less frequent, and the weekends I had hoped would bring me comfort turned into painful reminders that Nathan had already moved on. One day, I found an envelope on my doorstep. Divorce papers. I didn’t even have the strength to open them at first. But when I did, it felt like the floor dropped out beneath me.
Nathan had found someone else — someone healthy, pretty, and, in his eyes, not “broken” like me. He got full custody of Hazel, citing my illness as the reason I wasn’t fit to care for her. I was crushed, but I swore I wouldn’t give up without a fight. Not for me, but for Hazel.
I fought the cancer. It wasn’t easy, and there were days I wasn’t sure I would make it. But I did. I beat it, even though it left me weaker than before. It wasn’t the victory I had imagined — it didn’t bring back my marriage, but I was determined not to let cancer rob me of my daughter.
I waited for my weekends with Hazel, hoping that seeing her would bring some sense of normalcy back to my life. And so, one Saturday, I gathered what little strength I had left and went to Nathan’s new house. I knocked on the door, expecting to see Hazel’s face light up when she saw me.
But when the door opened, it wasn’t Hazel I saw.
It was Sarah.
Nathan’s new wife.
Her expression was cold, and she didn’t even try to mask her disdain as she looked me up and down.
“You? Can’t help. You’re NOT seeing Hazel!” she said sharply.
My heart dropped into my stomach. I tried to push past her, but she blocked the doorway. “What?! But why? Today is my day!” I pleaded, trying to keep my voice steady.
She stepped back slightly, as if she was about to let me in, but then her eyes hardened. “Oh God, did Nathan not call you? Listen, we decided that your daughter is… better off with us now.”
The words hit like a slap in the face. Better off with them? What was she saying?
“Better off? You took her from me once, and now you’re telling me I can’t even see my own daughter?” I could barely keep the tears at bay, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down.
Sarah crossed her arms, the smile on her face smug and unbothered. “Nathan thinks it’s best. And you, with your health problems, can’t be trusted to raise her anymore.”
I wanted to scream, to tell her she had no right. But all I could do was stand there, defeated and exhausted, knowing that the system — Nathan, his new wife, the courts — all of them had already decided Hazel’s future without me.
Before I could say another word, Sarah slammed the door in my face.
I stood there, frozen, the pain in my chest suffocating me. But I wouldn’t give up. I couldn’t. For Hazel, I would keep fighting. I wouldn’t let them take her from me without a fight — no matter how much they tried to shut me out.
I may have lost my marriage, my health, and so many things I thought would define me. But I had one thing left to fight for: my daughter. And as long as I had breath in my body, I would keep fighting for her, even if it meant facing Sarah, Nathan, or anyone else who tried to take her away from me.