{"id":3873,"date":"2026-10-01T13:16:42","date_gmt":"2026-10-01T13:16:42","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/?p=3873"},"modified":"2026-10-01T13:16:42","modified_gmt":"2026-10-01T13:16:42","slug":"how-a-mom-of-3-told-her-kids-about-her-metastatic-breast-cancer","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/?p=3873","title":{"rendered":"How A Mom of 3 Told Her Kids About Her Metastatic Breast Cancer"},"content":{"rendered":"


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\n\tFrances Malinis grew up knowing what cancer<\/a> looked like, but not how to talk about it. Her father died from the disease \u2014 nasopharyngeal cancer, a rare type of head and neck cancer \u2014 when he was 32 years old and she was 6. His mother and grandmother had also died from cancer at young ages. \u201cCancer was a known part of our family\u2019s story<\/a>, but it was never openly discussed,\u201d Malinis tells SheKnows, \u201cas if saying it out loud might somehow bring it into the present.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tWhen her father was diagnosed and undergoing treatment, Malinis didn\u2019t understand what was happening because no one had told her. She visited her dad in the hospital only twice, and she learned he\u2019d passed when she came home to find her home being set up for the funeral, her mother inconsolable upstairs. \u201cNo one had prepared me. No one had explained what cancer was, what his treatment meant, or that he might not survive,\u201d Malinis recalls. \u201cThe silence surrounding my dad\u2019s illness became part of how I understood cancer growing up.\u201d<\/p>\n

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\t\t\t\t\t\t\"Will<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

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\tRelated story
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\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n

\t\t\t\t\tWill Reeve’s Famous Parents Inspired Him to Share the ‘Overwhelming’ Diagnosis He Got Last Year\t\t<\/p>\n

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\n\tOver three decades later, Malinis was diagnosed with stage 1B triple-negative breast cancer<\/a>. At the time, her children were 7, 16, and 17 years old. While she wasn\u2019t sure exactly how to tell her children<\/a> about her diagnosis, she knew that staying silent wasn\u2019t an option.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cAs much as I wanted to protect them from the reality of my diagnosis, I also knew I didn\u2019t want cancer to become another unspoken chapter in our family\u2019s history. I wanted them to hear it from me. I wanted them to ask questions. I wanted them to be scared if they needed to be. Most of all, I wanted them to know that whatever lay ahead, we would face it together,\u201d Malinis says.<\/p>\n

\n\tSo, she talked about it. When her 16-year-old, Alhyza Jayne, asked about the bandages Malinis was wearing after having her port placed, she sat down with her and told her the truth<\/a>. \u201cI remember trying so hard to maintain eye contact, but it was one of the hardest conversations I\u2019d ever had,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cWe both cried. There was no way we couldn\u2019t. And I\u2019m glad she didn\u2019t try to hold it in. As much as I wanted to be strong for her, I also wanted her to know it was okay to be scared, to ask questions, and to feel whatever she was feeling.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tA few days later, Malinis told her 17-year-old son, Paul Ivan. That conversation wasn\u2019t easy, either. \u201cAs I told him about my diagnosis, I could almost see the weight of the world settle onto his shoulders,\u201d she remembers.<\/p>\n

\n\tAnd although Malinis approached the conversation differently with her youngest, Mariella, who has 22q11.2 duplication, autism, intellectual and developmental disabilities, she stayed true to her instincts toward openness. Malinis wasn\u2019t sure how much Mariella understood about cancer itself, but she saw the physical changes that came with treatment while the family worked together to keep her routines as consistent as possible. Much of Mariella\u2019s language comes from scripting. Now, when she touches her mother\u2019s bald head, she sometimes borrows a line from an episode of Sofia the First: \u201cOh no! What happened to Mama\u2019s hair?\u201d The two laugh together. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter to Mariella whether I have hair or not,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cI\u2019m still Mommy. I still get my hugs. I still get my kisses. She reminds me that sometimes children see past the diagnosis and simply see the person they love.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tJust as she\u2019d hoped, her openness allowed her family to move forward together. Malinis went through chemotherapy, a bilateral mastectomy, immunotherapy, and \u2014 after learning she carried a BRCA2 mutation \u2014 underwent a risk-reducing hysterectomy and bilateral oophorectomy. She worked these procedures around motherhood; the day before her bilateral mastectomy, she was traveling to attend her daughter\u2019s volleyball tournament. \u201cWe learned to fit cancer around life whenever we could, instead of letting cancer become our entire life,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n

\n\tAfter her initial treatment, she received the news she\u2019d been praying for: No evidence of disease. But in 2025, routine surveillance imaging detected a possible recurrence. Immediately, Malinis shared the early results with her family group text. \u201cThat simple act reflected just how much our family had changed,\u201d she says. \u201cIn 2023, I had tried to protect my children from every uncertainty. By 2025, they had become part of the journey. They were accustomed to receiving updates after my appointments, asking questions, and walking through the uncertainty alongside me instead of being shielded from it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tEventually, a partial lobectomy confirmed a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer. The night before, her family had celebrated Paul Ivan\u2019s 21st birthday. \u201cOnce again, cancer had woven itself into one of my children\u2019s milestones. One day we were celebrating his milestone. The next, we were facing one of the hardest moments of mine,\u201d Malinis says.<\/p>\n

\n\tThat juxtaposition stuck with Malinis and came to define her experience parenting with metastatic cancer. She wished her children could enjoy the freedom of being young adults without taking a role in caretaking or shouldering adult worries. But at the same time, by sharing with them the realities of her cancer diagnosis<\/a> and treatments, she was able to see them grow in remarkable ways.<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cI\u2019ve watched them become more independent, navigate challenges on their own, support one another, and, at times, even support me. Those moments haven\u2019t made me feel like I\u2019ve fallen short as a mother. They\u2019ve reminded me that they\u2019re growing into compassionate, capable young adults,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cAs difficult as it has been to let go of some of that control, it has also become one of the unexpected blessings of this journey. I\u2019ve had the privilege of watching my children shine in ways I may never have seen had life unfolded exactly as I had planned.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tFor example, when Alhyza Jayne decided to transfer to a college<\/a> closer to home due to her diagnosis, Malinis struggled with that decision, feeling like she was responsible for her children putting their lives on hold. \u201cOver time, though, I came to see it differently. Her decision wasn\u2019t rooted in obligation. It was rooted in love.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tMalinis has also observed her kids become better advocates for themselves, something she believes is a direct result of her choice to involve them in her own experiences with diagnosis and treatment.<\/p>\n

\n\tAt times when Malinis\u2019s children accompanied her to doctor\u2019s appointments, she was reminded of bringing them to their pediatrician appointments. Back then, she noticed that when a doctor asked them a question, they\u2019d look to her for an answer. If she mentioned a symptom they\u2019d been complaining about all week, they\u2019d brush it off as \u201cno big deal.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\t\u201cThose moments taught me something I didn\u2019t fully appreciate until much later. Self-advocacy is learned<\/a>,\u201d Malinis says. But her cancer diagnosis has given her kids ample learning opportunities. They\u2019ve watched her ask questions, pursue second opinions, and pause before making big decisions rather than following her doctors\u2019 recommendations without hesitation. \u201cToday, I hope my children understand that their symptoms matter. Their questions matter. Their instincts matter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\n\tMore than anything, Malinis hopes her children carry with them a deep and enduring faith. \u201cI don\u2019t want them to believe that God is a genie who grants every wish,\u201d she says. \u201cI want them to know a God who hears every prayer and answers according to His perfect will, trusting that His plans are greater than our own.\u201d Faith was a significant part of Malinis\u2019s childhood, and as an adult she deepened her understanding of God \u2014 even after her cancer diagnosis.<\/p>\n

\n\tCancer still weaves itself into Malinis\u2019s family\u2019s lives; that\u2019s the nature of a metastatic diagnosis. \u201cOne day might be an infusion. The next might be a birthday celebration. One week might bring scan anxiety. The next might bring a family vacation.\u201d The family takes it all day by day. \u201cWe don\u2019t wait for life to become free of hardship before we live it,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cWe live it even more intentionally because we know how precious it is.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n


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Source link <\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Frances Malinis grew up knowing what cancer looked like, but not how to talk about it. Her father died from the disease \u2014 nasopharyngeal cancer, a rare type of head and neck cancer \u2014 when he was 32 years old and she was 6. His mother and grandmother had also died from cancer at young ages. \u201cCancer was a known part of our family\u2019s story, but it was never openly discussed,\u201d Malinis tells SheKnows, \u201cas if saying it out loud might somehow bring it into the present.\u201d When her father was diagnosed and undergoing treatment, Malinis didn\u2019t understand what was happening because no one had told her. She visited her dad in the hospital only twice, and she learned he\u2019d passed when she came home to find her home being set up for the funeral, her mother inconsolable upstairs. \u201cNo one had prepared me. No one had explained what cancer was, what his treatment meant, or that he might not survive,\u201d Malinis recalls. \u201cThe silence surrounding my dad\u2019s illness became part of how I understood cancer growing up.\u201d Related story Will Reeve’s Famous Parents Inspired Him to Share the ‘Overwhelming’ Diagnosis He Got Last Year Over three decades later, Malinis was diagnosed with stage 1B triple-negative breast cancer. At the time, her children were 7, 16, and 17 years old. While she wasn\u2019t sure exactly how to tell her children about her diagnosis, she knew that staying silent wasn\u2019t an option. \u201cAs much as I wanted to protect them from the reality of my diagnosis, I also knew I didn\u2019t want cancer to become another unspoken chapter in our family\u2019s history. I wanted them to hear it from me. I wanted them to ask questions. I wanted them to be scared if they needed to be. Most of all, I wanted them to know that whatever lay ahead, we would face it together,\u201d Malinis says. So, she talked about it. When her 16-year-old, Alhyza Jayne, asked about the bandages Malinis was wearing after having her port placed, she sat down with her and told her the truth. \u201cI remember trying so hard to maintain eye contact, but it was one of the hardest conversations I\u2019d ever had,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cWe both cried. There was no way we couldn\u2019t. And I\u2019m glad she didn\u2019t try to hold it in. As much as I wanted to be strong for her, I also wanted her to know it was okay to be scared, to ask questions, and to feel whatever she was feeling.\u201d A few days later, Malinis told her 17-year-old son, Paul Ivan. That conversation wasn\u2019t easy, either. \u201cAs I told him about my diagnosis, I could almost see the weight of the world settle onto his shoulders,\u201d she remembers. And although Malinis approached the conversation differently with her youngest, Mariella, who has 22q11.2 duplication, autism, intellectual and developmental disabilities, she stayed true to her instincts toward openness. Malinis wasn\u2019t sure how much Mariella understood about cancer itself, but she saw the physical changes that came with treatment while the family worked together to keep her routines as consistent as possible. Much of Mariella\u2019s language comes from scripting. Now, when she touches her mother\u2019s bald head, she sometimes borrows a line from an episode of Sofia the First: \u201cOh no! What happened to Mama\u2019s hair?\u201d The two laugh together. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter to Mariella whether I have hair or not,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cI\u2019m still Mommy. I still get my hugs. I still get my kisses. She reminds me that sometimes children see past the diagnosis and simply see the person they love.\u201d Just as she\u2019d hoped, her openness allowed her family to move forward together. Malinis went through chemotherapy, a bilateral mastectomy, immunotherapy, and \u2014 after learning she carried a BRCA2 mutation \u2014 underwent a risk-reducing hysterectomy and bilateral oophorectomy. She worked these procedures around motherhood; the day before her bilateral mastectomy, she was traveling to attend her daughter\u2019s volleyball tournament. \u201cWe learned to fit cancer around life whenever we could, instead of letting cancer become our entire life,\u201d she says. After her initial treatment, she received the news she\u2019d been praying for: No evidence of disease. But in 2025, routine surveillance imaging detected a possible recurrence. Immediately, Malinis shared the early results with her family group text. \u201cThat simple act reflected just how much our family had changed,\u201d she says. \u201cIn 2023, I had tried to protect my children from every uncertainty. By 2025, they had become part of the journey. They were accustomed to receiving updates after my appointments, asking questions, and walking through the uncertainty alongside me instead of being shielded from it.\u201d Eventually, a partial lobectomy confirmed a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer. The night before, her family had celebrated Paul Ivan\u2019s 21st birthday. \u201cOnce again, cancer had woven itself into one of my children\u2019s milestones. One day we were celebrating his milestone. The next, we were facing one of the hardest moments of mine,\u201d Malinis says. That juxtaposition stuck with Malinis and came to define her experience parenting with metastatic cancer. She wished her children could enjoy the freedom of being young adults without taking a role in caretaking or shouldering adult worries. But at the same time, by sharing with them the realities of her cancer diagnosis and treatments, she was able to see them grow in remarkable ways. \u201cI\u2019ve watched them become more independent, navigate challenges on their own, support one another, and, at times, even support me. Those moments haven\u2019t made me feel like I\u2019ve fallen short as a mother. They\u2019ve reminded me that they\u2019re growing into compassionate, capable young adults,\u201d Malinis says. \u201cAs difficult as it has been to let go of some of that control, it has also become one of the unexpected blessings of this journey. I\u2019ve had the privilege of watching my children shine in ways I may never have seen had life unfolded exactly as I had planned.\u201d For example, when Alhyza Jayne decided to transfer to a<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3874,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3873","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-female-health-issues"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3873","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3873"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3873\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/3874"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3873"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3873"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/drsoniafawad.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3873"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}