Robach - Better: life lessons from my first year with breast cancer

M y older daughter, Ava, was ten when I told her I had cancer. As she struggled to understand what was happening to me, she put her feelings down on paper and wrote a poem but then hid it, too embarrassed to let me see her words. Instead, she showed it to a dear friend and colleague of mine, Sara Haines. Sara and I first met and worked together at NBC, and now were lucky enough to work side by side at ABC. Weve shared a lot of ups and downs over the years, and shes become like a sister to me and an aunt to my daughters. Sara encouraged Ava to give me the poem. She said, Your mom needs to read this. And she was right.

Ava ran up to me one evening in the middle of my chemo treatments and handed me the neatly folded sheet of lined paper.

Mom, please dont read this in front of me, she said as she hurried off to her bedroom and closed the door.

As I began to read Avas words, I was overcome with pride. My little girl had so much compassion in her beautiful heart; her empathy and optimism leapt off the paper. The title of the poem was perfect, simple, and powerful: Better. What a hopeful word. It stared back at me at a time when I felt the opposite. I was weak, but my daughter knew that I would be strong again. My tears started flowing. The voice of my ten-year-old astounded me as I marveled at her incredible wisdom. Her poem was a message of understanding and encouragement, from daughter to mother.

As she walks through the door with her head held up high

And a sparkle in those big blue eyes

That smile is contagious and I dont know why.

This is her battle, yet she strengthens me.

This is her struggle, and she cant be free.

This is her worry, but I have no doubt

She will survive without one pout.

She will be strong, stronger than ever.

Shes a fighter just like her daughter

It has to get worse before it gets better

and trust me it will get better.

My younger daughter, Annalise, was only seven when she had to hear that her mommy had cancer. She spoke to me through her art, drawing me as a princess, as if to make me all-powerful. But at the same time, I noticed how she held on to me a little tighter than before, and I could see in her big brown eyes how much she needed me.

My daughters made me rise up in my darkest moments. I felt stronger, better, just knowing they believed I could conquer this horrible disease. Ive come to recognize that there is no clearer mirror in the world than the reflection of yourself through your children.

Despite the fact that millions of women share this awful illness, cancer can feel very isolating. Ive found over this past year that every time I share my story, other women share theirs, and a beautiful connection is made. Its been a tremendous source of comfort for me, and its the reason I decided to write this book. As a journalist, Im much more interested in telling the story than in being the story. But the fact is, I didnt really have a choice about going public with my illnessI was tested on live television as a public service, and keeping quiet about the rest of my experience just felt wrong. My passion for journalism is rooted in the notion that by providing information we become stronger, more connected people. My goal is to share not only the daily challenges I faced as a newly diagnosed cancer patient but also the evolution that occurred as I transitioned from patient to survivorto thriver. I am a different woman than I was before cancer. I am a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend, and Ive learned so much about myself. Perhaps the biggest lesson was one that I thought I knew yet too often forgot: The truth is, all I really need is exactly what I have right now.