A lover’s hands
My baby’s hands snake over my breasts like a lover’s, stroking and caressing. We dance together in this, our ritual, begun minutes after he was
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My baby’s hands snake over my breasts like a lover’s, stroking and caressing. We dance together in this, our ritual, begun minutes after he was
First day after first chemotherapy I feel ok. A little weary but ok. We go to a cafe, then lunch out. My son attends his
“Your hair is beautiful Mummy” says Mr 6, as I strap him into the car in the evening light. “When the sun shines through it,
“I think you’ve got a breast cancer” said the radiologist, after she spread the sample she’d taken from my breast and lymph nodes on slides.
Washing in the shower, I feel a lump on my armpit. “Curious” I think, “That’s a lymph node”. I’ve never felt one there before. I
“Boobs…” said my five year old, leaning contentedly on my chest “are just pillows of milk.” I smiled, what a beautiful innocent thought. My breasts,
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At age 43, with two children aged 8 and 3, Jo faces a heartbreaking and devastating situation. Right when she should be making early memories with her family, she faces a diagnosis of terminal breast cancer. Those memories are soon all her children will have left. #ChallengeAccepted
“It’s my dearest wish that the boys are surrounded by love and support when I’m gone…”
- Jo Tweet
“I want to live long enough for Lachy and Ben to have meaningful memories of me.”
- Jo Tweet
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