Real Life The picture that means so much
When Jen Parker lost her mum, she was grateful to have captured a special moment
When this photo was taken, in November 2018, I was seven months pregnant with my second child. As I posed with my daughter Lily, then two, and my beloved mum Viv, 63, I didn’t know it was to be the last picture of me with Mum. What makes it even more precious is that because Mum hated having her photo taken, it’s one of only a handful I have of us together.
The first time Mum was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2008, she underwent treatment and a single mastectomy, and we thought we were in the clear when, five years later, she was cancer-free.
Mum had always been such a strong woman, raising me and my brother Mark. I’d always seen her as invincible. But in 2015, not long before I married Aaron, then 28, tests showed the cancer had returned in her bowel. She was given chemotherapy tablets to manage it and over the next few years, she looked fit and well. When I had Lily in October 2016, Mum was besotted with her and being a nanny seemed to give her a new lease of life. But in April 2018, fluid had built up in her stomach and she went to hospital to get it checked.
She kept telling us she was fine, and she refused to let me or Mark, then 34, go with her to any hospital appointments. Deep down I knew she was keeping something from us, but Mum kept saying that she’d beaten cancer once and would do it again. I really believed her.
Later that same month, I told Mum I was pregnant and due in December. ‘I’ve got a reason to live until Christmas now,’ she said. Suddenly, I realised Mum was far more poorly than she was letting on. I pressed her to tell me the truth and begged her to let me accompany her to appointments so that I could support her, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
Over the months, as my belly grew, so did Mum’s, caused by fluid build-up. If it caused her any discomfort or pain, she never let on, instead jokingly comparing our bump sizes.
Then, in November, I took Lily to a photo shoot I’d organised with a professional photographer called Julie Grant. Because I was heavily pregnant, Mum came along to help me with Lily. Between takes, Julie took a few candid photos while Mum wasn’t looking, with Lily on her shoulders. Then, as I held Lily and stood beside Mum, Julie asked if she could take a photo of us. Mum didn’t have a chance to protest before Julie snapped the photo.
The following month, Amber was born and Mum adored her. But just a few weeks later in January I got a call saying she was back in hospital as she’d taken a turn for the worse. Doctors believed she only had a few weeks left, and I was inconsolable.
As much as I thought I’d be prepared, I wasn’t. Mum had been fighting cancer for 11 years, and I’d always thought she’d win.
Mum deteriorated rapidly over the next two weeks, eating less and losing weight, and in February, we moved her to a hospice. Six weeks later, she passed away peacefully with her family beside her.
I missed her terribly and spent the days after her death scrolling through the few pictures I had of her. Mum looked radiant in the images from the photo shoot. Despite how ill she was, she still looked so happy. But that was my mum, strong until the very end, never letting cancer bring her down. Her bravery was inspiring and I’m so proud she was my mum.
‘I’D ALWAYS THOUGHT SHE’D WIN’