My name is Paula, and I am Felicia’s mom.

I never imagined I would be writing words like this about my daughter.

As a bereaved parent, this is one of the deepest fears you carry in your heart already — the fear of losing a child, or watching your child fight for their life. And today, I am asking our community to please surround my daughter, Felicia, and our family with prayer, love, and support.

Felicia is 32 weeks pregnant with our sweet baby girl, Auslynn, and she has just been diagnosed with stage 1 squamous cell carcinoma of the tongue.

What we thought was a canker sore or ulcer on the side of her tongue turned into months of unanswered questions, being dismissed, and trying to get someone to listen. For 5 1/2 months, she kept going from doctor to doctor and dentist to dentist looking for answers. Finally, an oral surgeon was willing to help, did a biopsy the same day, and within 2 days we got the phone call that changed everything.

She has been told this is an aggressive cancer that needs treatment immediately and cannot wait until after delivery.

As her mom, I am beyond shocked, heartbroken, and scared. Felicia should be spending these final weeks of pregnancy preparing for her baby girl, dreaming about delivery, and soaking in this season. Instead, she is facing scans, scopes, surgery, and the unknown all at the same time.

These are the next steps:

She will first have a CT scan of her head and throat, along with a scope from her nose to her throat, to check for any additional lesions. The following week, surgery will be scheduled to remove about one-fourth of her tongue and the lymph nodes on the right side of her neck. Because rebuilding the tongue would require a surgery lasting more than 12 hours, that part cannot be done right now and will have to come later. Once the cancer is removed, we will know more about what comes next, including whether radiation or other treatment will be needed.

This diagnosis has shattered so much in an instant. It has brought fear, heartbreak, and so many hard realities — including the possibility that Felicia may lose her dream of breastfeeding if treatment has to begin right away.

Right now, we are trying to protect her peace, lower her stress, and help carry what we can for her as she prepares to welcome Auslynn, possibly earlier than expected, while also preparing to fight cancer.

I know many people may not know what to say, and that is okay. Sometimes there are no perfect words. Please just pray. Pray hard. Pray specifically. Pray for Felicia’s body, her baby, her doctors, her surgery, her healing, and her mind. Pray for strength when she feels weak, peace when fear takes over, and protection over every step ahead.

Please also share this post. And if you are someone who truly means it when you say, “I’m here,” we may need you. We are going to have to lean on our community in a way we never wanted to, and we are choosing not to walk through this in pride.

This is my girl.

This is my grandbaby.

And this is a battle no mother wants to watch her child fight.

Please keep Felicia, baby Auslynn, and all of us in your prayers.

Thank you for loving her with us.