In my family, Mother’s Day has always been celebrated much like a major holiday, both in-laws and out-laws rolling in from their own towns to circle up, squeeze hands and soak in the feeling of extended family gathering.

Mother’s Day of 2015 was extra special because my brother and sister-in-law had welcomed their first baby a few months before. This baby, my niece, had been so badly wanted and so deeply loved, even before she was a tiny blip in her mama’s tummy.

To say I was excited would be a major understatement. I spent the day toting my little niece around, kissing her cheeks and feeling equally proud and fascinated by her warm eyes and gigantic cheeks.

In talking with my sister-in-law that day, about the haze of motherhood, she shared with me that she hadn’t been feeling well and was waiting for some test results. She didn’t go into specific details and in that moment it never crossed my mind to be worried. There was a new baby to celebrate and all new moms were exhausted, right?

I spent the rest of the day with my face smashed up against my niece’s, soaking her in, delighting in time spent with family. Oblivious of what was to come. Looking back now, thinking of that day, I can still remember the pure happiness I felt for my brother and sister-in-law. Just joy, love and elation that their own dreams were coming true.

The next day I got a phone call from my sister-in law telling me that the tests she’d been waiting for had come in and the results were devastating.

The doctors were saying that she most likely had pancreatic cancer.

Pancreatic Cancer.

PANCREATIC CANCER.

PANCREATIC.

CANCER.

What in the hell did that even mean?

I listened in stunned silence to my sister-in-law’s voice telling me what little she knew. We hung up and I let Google tell me what I didn’t want to know: that pancreatic cancer is worse than the worst cancer. I called my husband at work and stunned him into silence while I cried, hoping that my own two children wouldn’t notice or hear.

I’ll forever remember Mother’s Day 2015 as this blip on the calendar, a tiny utopia of goodness. The day that our family got to come together without the unwelcome guests of cancer, fear, confusion, and utter panic.

The Before.