"A lump killed her": heartbreaking letter from mom to her daughter

Dear Giovanna,

My sweet, sparkling girl.

A typical teenager, your hair had to be perfect, otherwise hell would pay off!

But even at 14 you were so generous, Giovanna.

Your father, Fred, and I had always taught you and your little brother, Nando, then 12, to be nice and to say that there was no greater gift than giving.

This Christmas, you loved choosing the ideal press kit for your loved ones.

"You're right, Mom – it's better to give than to receive," you said.

Then, in May, I was waiting for you to finish your netball training when your coach arrived.

"Is Giovanna pregnant?" she asked, clumsily.

What is going on? It's only a kid! I was fuming inside.

Looking at you on the ground, your stomach has however protruded under your top.

You always had a little pot belly …

But you were so tired recently too. I will confide it to you because you are busy at school.

You were my world, Giovanna. How would I not have noticed?

"Honey, can Mom feel your belly?"

I asked that night quietly.

Putting my hands on your belly, I felt like a five-month baby bump, rock-hard.

Could you really be pregnant? I worried, imagining the worst. And if you had been attacked?

You became angry and I did not want to overwhelm you.

"We'll go to the doctor tomorrow," I calmed down.

The next day, I quietly asked the doctor to do a pregnancy test, and then we were sent directly for an ultrasound.

As the wand slid down your stomach, the sonograph sounded worried.

"I need you to go to the hospital now, his ovary is about the size of a football," he said.

"Everything will be fine," I told you, minimizing it.

A specialist said that it looked like a cyst. Still, they did tests to be sure.

A few days later, while I was preparing dinner, a doctor rang.

"We need you here at 9 o'clock," he said.

My heart sank

At the hospital, you were transported to the theater where a 10-kilogram tumor and one of your ovaries were removed.

After, it was as if you had given birth. An angry scar similar to a caesarean section ran along your pubic bone and your stomach was flat.

You were delighted with your cup, Giovanna!

We were just as happy when we were allowed to take you home a week later.

It was short lived though.

Two days later, you were diagnosed with ovarian cancer.

"Six rounds of chemotherapy and you'll come back to netball," said your oncologist.

You were 15 a few weeks later, my precious daughter.

The same day, you had your first round of chemotherapy.

Fifteen days later, we organized a birthday party with all your friends. You were so weak, but pushed through, and in your little black dress, you were beautiful.

"It was the best night of my life!" you exclaimed.

Your face was shining with happiness, darling.

How I wanted to freeze this moment.

Two weeks later, you were brought back to the hospital in agony. Terrifying, your belly has started to grow again too.

You had another round of chemotherapy, but your "bump" continued to swell until you looked nine months pregnant.

I even had to buy a size 20 pajama pants.

Still, you always thought of others.

"We are going to love, but you have to improve first," I say.

After two awful weeks and a new chemotherapy session, the doctors sat down your father and me.

"Giovanna's organs close," we were told.

They could not do anything to save you, darling.

And we did not have weeks or months with you.

Just days.

Dad and I were crushed, but we have a brave face for you. The word "dying" was banned – we did not want you to be afraid.

The next day, you were sedated to relieve your pain.

When I went to bed with you, I wrapped you in my arms and fell asleep.

In the morning, Dad took my place, then your little brother is snuggled against you.

"Go darling, fly with the angels," I sobbed, making your last breath just after noon. It was so peaceful, Giovanna. But losing you, baby, broke my heart. It was less than three months since you were diagnosed.

It's you who inspired me to continue.

A few months after your death, your voice guiding me, I launched a charity called Giovanna's Gift.

Six years later, we raised more than $ 50,000 for ovarian cancer research and Ronald McDonald House, as you wanted.

There is even a room named in your honor.

You've been kidnapped too soon, beautiful girl.

But I know you would like me to share your story to spare our pain to other families.

Ovarian cancer is known as the silent killer. If we had known the signs and detected them earlier, we might have been able to save you.

You will always be my best gift, Giovanna.

With all my love, mom

Ovarian cancer: the facts

Ovarian cancer has the lowest survival rate of all female cancers.

In the absence of early detection test, it is important to know the symptoms that most often include: swollen belly or persistent bloating, abdominal or pelvic pain, need to urinate often or urgently, feeling of satiety after eating a small amount or extreme fatigue.

February is the month of ovarian cancer awareness.

For more information, visit ovariancancer.net.au

This article was posted on Kidspot and has been reproduced with permission.