My name is Laura, and I am writing this from hospice—something I never imagined would be part of my story, especially as a mother.

I was first diagnosed with breast cancer when Olivia was only four and Landon was just two and a half. They were so small… they needed their mama, and all I wanted was to be here to watch them grow. From that moment on, I fought with everything inside me.

For years I lived in hospitals and treatment rooms. Chemo, infusions, radiation, surgeries—one after another, without a break. I pushed through every side effect, every setback, every heartbreak, because every day with my children was worth the pain. I promised myself I would keep fighting, no matter what.

But cancer had other plans.

It spread to my brain and spine, stealing more and more of my strength until eventually it took my ability to walk. I am now paralyzed from the waist down and require 24-hour care. Three weeks ago, I entered hospice, and I am facing the reality that my time with my family may be much shorter than I prayed for.

The hardest part of all of this isn’t the pain or the fear—it’s knowing how much my husband and my family are carrying. They have been my lifeline, my comfort, my courage. But the cost of the round-the-clock care I now need is overwhelming. It’s a weight I never wanted them to bear.

So with a heart full of love, humility, and hope, I’m asking for help.

Not for myself, but to ease the burden on the people I love most in this world. To give my husband the ability to focus on our children, to hold my hand, to sit with me—without the constant fear of how we will pay for the care keeping me comfortable.

If you are able to give, even a little, your kindness will help bring peace to my family during the most heartbreaking chapter of our lives. And if you can’t give, simply sharing this message means more than you’ll ever know.

Thank you for seeing us.

Thank you for caring.

Thank you for helping me leave my family with love instead of worry.

With all my heart, Laura