There is a moment familiar to almost every cancer parent. The house is quiet. The hospital bag is packed. Your child is finally asleep. Yet instead of resting, you find yourself staring into the glow of a phone screen, searching for answers that feel just out of reach.

In this heartfelt Cancer Mom Notes reflection, one mother shares the midnight habit that consumed her during the early months of treatment—and the unexpected lesson she learned from letting it go. This is a story about fear, control, exhaustion, and the gentle realization that not every question needs an immediate answer. Sometimes the bravest thing a parent can do is close the tab, trust the people caring for their child, and allow themselves a moment of rest.

For any parent who has ever found themselves scrolling through survival statistics at 2 a.m., this piece offers understanding, practical coping strategies, and a reminder that you do not have to carry every fear alone. Your child needs you tomorrow more than Google needs you tonight.

When a child is diagnosed with cancer, friends and family often ask the same question: "How can we help?" One of the most common answers is a meal train—and when done thoughtfully, it can become one of the most meaningful forms of support a family receives during treatment.

But after years of walking alongside pediatric cancer families, I've learned that the most helpful meal trains aren't necessarily the most elaborate. They're the ones built around the real needs of exhausted parents, children in treatment, and households trying to navigate an unpredictable schedule.

This guide shares practical advice from cancer families themselves on how to create a meal train that truly helps—from choosing the right foods and delivery methods to avoiding common mistakes and sustaining support long after the initial diagnosis. Because for families facing childhood cancer, a meal is never just a meal. It's a reminder that they don't have to carry the journey alone.

When my son finished active leukemia treatment, I expected life to feel lighter. In many ways, it did. The hospital visits became less frequent, the infusion schedules disappeared, and our family slowly began rebuilding a more familiar routine. What I wasn't prepared for was the anxiety that arrived before every follow-up scan.

Many childhood cancer families know this feeling as scanxiety—the weeks of uncertainty leading up to a scan or appointment that could change everything. Even when treatment is over and a child is doing well, the fear of recurrence can quietly settle into everyday life, making it difficult to focus, sleep, or fully trust that things are okay.

In this article, I share what scanxiety has looked like for our family, why it is such a common experience among survivor parents, and the practical strategies that help us navigate the weeks leading up to each scan. For families living in the space between treatment and survivorship, it's a reminder that these feelings are normal—and that you don't have to carry them alone.

After four years of navigating childhood cancer treatment, I've learned that some of the most important lessons don't come from doctors, research papers, or treatment plans. They come from the nurses who spend day after day caring for children and quietly caring for their parents, too.

This week, during a routine clinic visit, a nurse said something simple that stopped me in my tracks. It wasn't medical advice or a major revelation. It was a gentle reminder about presence, attention, and what children need most from us in difficult moments.

In this Field Notes Friday reflection, I share a small interaction that stayed with me long after we left the clinic—a reminder that sometimes the most meaningful support comes in the form of a single sentence spoken at exactly the right time.

After my son was diagnosed with leukemia, I learned that childhood cancer affects more than the child in treatment. It changes life for the entire family, including the siblings who quietly adapt to hospital visits, disrupted routines, and parents stretched in multiple directions.

Cancer siblings often carry feelings and challenges that can be easy to overlook. This article explores ways parents can support both children during treatment and help siblings feel seen, included, and loved throughout the journey.

At Maxwell's Toy Box, we recognize that childhood cancer impacts the whole family. That's why every Newly Diagnosed Family Bag and Joy Package includes something for the sibling too—because every child deserves comfort, attention, and moments of joy.

After experiencing nearly 80–100 medical appointments during my son’s first year of leukemia treatment, I realized childhood cancer impacts far more than a child’s health — it completely reshapes daily family life around hospital visits, procedures, and ongoing emotional exhaustion. Maxwell’s Toy Box was created to help families navigate those difficult moments by providing meaningful support that brings comfort, distraction, and small moments of normalcy during pediatric cancer treatment.

Today, on International Childhood Cancer Day, we pause to honor the courage of children and families affected by cancer. Each year, an estimated 400,000 children and adolescents worldwide are diagnosed with cancer.