Cecilia

Cecilia goes to bed at 10 p.m. now. If the kids are still awake with their dad, so be it.

Her mornings have changed, too. She wakes up before the rest of the house for 30 minutes of movement, then eats an actual breakfast before reaching for coffee or matcha. Before cancer, coffee was breakfast. She was always moving, always doing, always taking care of someone else.

There has almost always been someone to take care of.

The oldest of four siblings, Cecilia learned that role young. Today, she is a stay-at-home mom to three children and full-time caregiver for her 12-year-old autistic son, who requires around-the-clock care. She homeschools, manages therapies and activities, and has spent years making sure her son is understood and protected. Before that, she advocated for her grandmother through stage IV ovarian cancer.

“For her, that was easy,” Cecilia says. “But for myself? That I’m learning.”

When a breast mass was repeatedly attributed to a clogged duct while she was breastfeeding, Cecilia eventually pushed back when clinicians wanted to send her to lactation again. She asked for further evaluation. By then, the mass had grown to nearly seven centimeters. Genetic testing later revealed a BRCA1 mutation.

She has finished chemotherapy and is now moving through surgery and immunotherapy while raising three young children.

And yet, when Cecilia talks about what cancer has changed, she keeps returning to the ordinary things: sleep. Breakfast. Movement. Being present with her kids. Letting her husband help. Asking for what she needs.

“I’m not going to be the same person that I was before cancer,” she says.

It’s about finally learning to care for Cecilia, too.