A Photo I Have Not Shared (and What It Means)
There is a photograph on my phone that I have never posted.
It is a picture I took two and a half years ago, in the parking garage of Advocate Children's Hospital. We had just finished a lumbar puncture. My son was four. He was asleep in his car seat. The setting sun was coming in through the windshield. His face was half in shadow.
I took the picture before I started the car. I do not know why.
I have looked at it maybe a hundred times since.
I have not posted it. I am not going to post it. I am writing about it instead.
Cancer families have these photos. The ones we took during treatment that we have not shared with anybody. The ones that mean something private. The ones that are too tender, or too sad, or too us.
I am writing about this photo because I want to tell you it exists, and I want to tell you why I am keeping it.
I am keeping it because, three years from now, when my son is seven, I want to look at this photo and remember the four-year-old who was asleep in his car seat after a hard procedure. The four-year-old whose face was half in shadow. The four-year-old who would, hours later, eat half a peanut butter sandwich and ask to watch a movie.
I am keeping it because it is one of the truest photos I have of that year. Most of our family photos from that year are smiling. Birthday photos. Holiday photos. Photos at the park between clinic days. This photo is the version of our year that nobody else got to see.
I am keeping it because it is private. The internet does not get every part of our story. This photo is for our family.
Dina
Mom of Max | Founder, Maxwell’s Toy Shoppe
Childhood Cancer Advocate 💛
Follow Us On Social
Join our movement to support children battling cancer and their families, year-round:
🎁 Donate to deliver toys to children during long cancer treatment days
🧸 Buy a toy from Maxwell’s Toy Shoppe, and 100% of proceeds support children in treatment
🎗️ Join Maxwell’s Circle of Heroes as a monthly donor to ensure families receive ongoing care
