This post is by Meredith. You can read more about her on our Blogger Bios page.

This month is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. Pink is everywhere: on grocery products, professional sports team uniforms, and media publications. Even my local paper was dyed pink in support of all those touched by this horrible disease. Despite the widespread publicity, for those touched by this tragedy, breast cancer remains a very personal family affair.

It profoundly affects the women in our lives whom we count on for support, encouragement, and guidance. On a practical level, it upends our daily lives and sets off a chain reaction of delivered meals, rides to doctors’ appointments, and childcare assistance. Cancer is the catalyst for a poignant role reversal: the strong, capable multi-tasking, super-woman that everyone depends on suddenly needs to be taken care of. This shift creates sadness, anger, frustration, and fear. It can also bring out the best in people.

Today I acknowledge not only the brave women in my life who have faced this terrible disease head-on, but also the countless women in my community and beyond whom I may not know personally, but whose stories touch my heart.

It was a winter afternoon seven years ago, that breast cancer first shook my family. We were sitting in our living room with my parents. I was eight months pregnant, looking forward to having them with us for the arrival of grandchild number two. Mom just came right out with it – they found a lump, it was cancer, she was having a mastectomy in three weeks. The rest is a blur. Four weeks later, instead of sharing the happy news in person, I called my mom from the delivery room to congratulate her on being a grandma again. Our daughter is now seven, and her birthday will always mark that anniversary.

My mom was cancer free for a few years after initial treatment, but then it came back, spreading to her chest and abdomen. She’s on a different regimen of drugs now. She won’t lose her hair again, but the bi-monthly “maintenance” program is still draining. I have so much love for my mom and feel so much pride in her bravery. She faces this challenge with incredible optimism, humor, and spirit. You would never know that she’s living with cancer. (She’ll no doubt give me a hard time for “airing her dirty laundry.”)

It was another winter evening a few years ago that we learned my mother-in-law had also been diagnosed. She went alone to the referral appointment with the specialist after finding a lump in her breast, not believing that anything could have developed in the three months since her last mammogram. Once again we heard those sobering words, it’s cancer. She had chemo right away, surgery, and radiation later. We were devastated.

I have so much love and pride for my other mom. Even in the midst of chemo she continued working, going on with her life like a champ. She was tougher and more positive during that time than she will ever give herself credit for. She’s a survivor.

Around the same time, my grandmother was diagnosed, had a lumpectomy and radiation. My husband’s grandmother faced the same diagnosis. They are survivors. Sadly, my husband’s aunt lost her battle with breast cancer, leaving behind two daughters, a son-in-law, and four grandsons she never got to meet.

I pray that no one else I love will have her worst fears confirmed with the words, “It’s cancer.” I fervently hope that my own daughter, my nieces, and the rest of their generation will know only a cure.