In My Toddler's Own Words: The Power of Helping Others

I help.

I never thought two, very short, very simple, words could hold so much power.

Words are powerful, yes, but powerful enough to dictate an entire life’s purpose?

Two words?

In Hindsight

Before our daughter, Easton, left this earth after her very brief battle with a pediatric brain tumor called AT/RT, we believe she was trying to convey a message. A message I would only recognize in hindsight.

I help.

“I help!” she would exclaim as I was dusting our baseboards back to their once pristine glossy white, now coated in dust and dirt from her and her brother’s escapades up and down the stairs.

“I help!” she would announce as I was sweeping our sprawling front porch that graced the facade of the first home we bought in the greater Charlotte area.

“I help, Brush!” the affectionate nickname she had given her big brother accompanying the end of many of her cries. All while she busied herself with aiding her favorite person as he cleaned his room or straightened his book shelf.

A Purpose Fulfilled

It was only after the doctors at Levine Children’s Hospital sat my husband and I down to deliver the fateful news of her cancer and death, that this phrase popped back into my head almost immediately. It was as if Easton had planted the seed and now it was time to bear fruit in me as she would no longer be able to fulfill its purpose. I remember sitting in a room that the hospital had reserved for us to grieve, sleep (which was impossible) and do whatever else it was that people do when their child dies, that I turned slowly to my husband and relayed the message. “We have to help people” I said. I didn’t, at the time, know exactly where it was coming from except for our daughter’s sweet voice which I longed and begged to hear just one more time. “I help, mommy”. “This is what she was trying to tell us. This is what she wants us to do!” I said through shock...my face drawn, devoid of any other expression and my tone serious.

Keep it Close

My husband immediately understood, recognizing our dear girl’s favorite saying and possibly even feeling her spirit in the sentiment. She was all that was good in this world. We had to try to keep it close. The social worker, in contrast, looked at me like I had completely lost my mind and needed a sedative, although I think she was sincerely just concerned for us in our predicament. To her point, I did need a sedative. It would be months before I was able to speak those words again. “I help.” They would be whisked from my consciousness as quickly as they came that day, but I knew once I was able to properly grieve for a bit of time, they would cross my mind once again.

Who is Helping Our Kids?

My father taught me that helping others is the most important job in the world. I saw my father’s spirit in Easton’s “I help” message. They never met, as my father passed away long before Easton was even a glimmer in our eyes, also from a brain tumor ironically, but I truly believe they were kindred spirits. She even had one of his signature facial expressions, looking down her nose at me in judgement if she didn’t like an answer to a question. It always made me laugh. My father’s lessons remind me of a quote by Mr. Rogers, that in times of disaster, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping” - Who is helping our kids fight cancer? Who is looking out for our most vulnerable population when they face a pediatric cancer diagnosis? Will we treat these children like adults or will we recognize the need to help them fight in a way that is specialized to their needs?

Purpose Fueled by Love

As I began to a plot a course and carve out a life of my own with this new title as cancer mom, a theme began to appear. Cancer moms helping. These women are motivated unlike any other group I have ever encountered. Motivated by hope and fear and frustration and anger and all the emotions that they probably feel daily, even hourly, when traversing a pediatric cancer diagnosis. It is a drive that only love can fuel.

I believe that a majority of cancer moms will tell you helping raise awareness and funds to support trials, efforts and research, outfits us with a purpose that I feel personally is sometimes one hundred percent selfish. It gives me just as much as it gives others. A reason. A plan to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The hope that others will survive this terrible disease which happens to be the number one disease killer of children. It’s the hope that keeps pushing us. It’s the uplifting feeling that helping others can elicit. It’s not always easy. There are set backs, obstacles and landmines. Yet there are also more triumphs and wins than we ever expected.

Getting to Work

Once I crawled out of the black hole that is shock and grief after the loss of our daughter, I knew I had to get to work. Helping others in our same situation would allow Easton’s memory live on in a positive way.

Then I met Gretchen Witt, co-founder of Cookies for Kids' Cancer. She is the true embodiment of Easton’s “I help” message. Through her I have connected with a myriad of other like minded cancer parents, but also people who feel compelled to help, who are lucky enough to not have been touched by a pediatric cancer diagnosis. The helpers are out there, you just have to take notice.

Big Lesson, Little Girl

How can you help you ask? Cookies for Kids' Cancer has made getting involved this summer break that much easier by inviting you to join the Good Cookie Challenge! You can join this challenge solo, with your family and friends or encourage your children to sign up as a summer project. My son Grant and I have registered our Good Cookie Challenge team and you are also welcome to join Team Easton! Kids helping kids is a cornerstone at Cookies and teaching your children the importance of helping their peers is a gift that will follow them throughout their lives.  It is also a helpful way to keep them focused this summer on a meaningful goal which can benefit the lives of the many kids battling cancer.

It doesn’t have to be complicated to make a big impact.

A little girl taught me that.

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About the Author: Liz Mills is a freelance writer and artist, wife to Brandon, mother to Grant and the late Tough Cookie Easton who passed away in 2017 from a brain tumor at the age of 2. She lives in Charlotte, NC with her family and their two cats, Winnie and Bella, who are moderately well behaved. She enjoys CrossFit, traveling, watching her son run track and play basketball and helping other cancer parents navigate the world.