Why This Cause Is Personal to Me

Childhood cancer awareness has always mattered. But when a child you love becomes seriously ill, it stops being something that happens to other families.

It becomes very personal.

My niece, Sophie, was only about a year and a half old when her mom, Amber, began noticing that something wasn’t right. Sophie had been born with a head tilt, called torticollis. This wasn't super unusual, as her older brother was also born with it. What was unusual was that it didn't get better with treatment, stretching, and a special neck-brace, like her brothers did. So they started searching for answers—seeing pediatricians, physical therapists, and chiropractors —but no one could explain why it wasn't getting better. 

Then more symptoms appeared.

Around age two, Sophie began struggling with ataxia, causing problems with her balance and walking. She became unusually clumsy. She tripped constantly, developed an abnormal gait, and began dragging one of her feet. So they were encouraged to doubled down on the torticollis treatments - which didn't end up helping either of the now strange symptoms.

A few months after turning two, Sophie began vomiting in the mornings pretty regularly. Her parents knew something was very wrong, but none of the doctors answers made sense. 

Through what our family can only describe as a series of miraculous events, Amber was able to get in contact with a pediatric neuro-oncologist at Primary Children’s Hospital who strongly encouraged an MRI. Two days later, on July 17, 2024, Sophie had her first MRI.

They finally had an answer.

And it was terrifying.

Doctors discovered a large pilocytic astrocytoma growing on Sophie’s brainstem. The tumor was approximately the size of a golf ball and had grown in a place where it was interfering with the vital flow of fluid around her brain. 

Sophie was just two and a half years old.

The tumor was classified as benign—but there was absolutely nothing harmless about it. Left untreated, it was threatening her life.

Sophie underwent major surgery so doctors could relieve the dangerous pressure, restore vital fluid flow, and obtain a piece of the tumor to determine exactly what they were dealing with.

They learned that although the tumor was benign, it was inoperable because of the way it had grown and intertwined with and around her brainstem. Picture a ball of play-dough filled with sand. Now try to remove every grain of stand from the play-dough, thats what they were dealing with.

Her family was suddenly facing decisions no parent ever expects to make for a two-year-old.

Ultimately, Sophie began cytotoxic chemotherapy. Doctors surgically placed a port in her tiny belly to make the long treatment journey a little easier. She would receive chemotherapy month after month for a year.

At the beginning, the hope wasn't even that chemotherapy would make the tumor disappear.

The hope was simply to stop it from growing—to give Sophie time to grow so that her little body could create more room around it.

And then began one incredibly difficult year.

Twelve rounds of chemotherapy.
Three blood transfusions.
Countless appointments, medications and hospital visits.
Weight loss.
Fear.
Waiting.
And one very brave little girl.

During Sophie’s 12th and final chemotherapy treatment, she suddenly developed a severe allergic reaction to one of the medications. She went into anaphylactic shock. She turned blue and came terrifyingly close to losing her life.

Thankfully, doctors acted quickly and were able to save her.

And thankfully, it was her final treatment.

Three months after chemotherapy ended, Sophie returned for another scan.

The tumor that had once been approximately the size of a golf ball had shrunk to roughly the size of a marble.

For our family, it is a miracle.

Today, Sophie is four years old.   

She is growing. She is learning. She is catching up. She is thriving.

And we are profoundly grateful.

But Sophie's story isn't completely over.

The tumor is still there, and because of its location, it will likely always be part of her life. Doctors will continue watching it closely because there is always the possibility that it could begin growing again.

That is why this cause means so much to me.

Research matters.

Better treatments matter.

Funding matters.

Organizations willing to stand beside children and families during the most frightening seasons of their lives matter.

When I had the opportunity for Artistic Chaos Ink to support Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation, there really wasn't much for me to think about.

It was a resounding YES!

This September, during Childhood Cancer Awareness Month, we're using something we already love—coloring, creating and bringing people together—to help support something much bigger than ourselves.

For the entire month of September, 15% of all our product sales will be donated to Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation.  AND, we'll be donating 30% of every Kick Kids’ Cancer Coloring Poster sold. We're also putting together a team for ALSF's The Million Mile fundraiser. We'd LOVE to have you join us!  Click on the link below for details! 

We're so proud to be helping spread awareness about the incredible work being done for children and families facing childhood cancer.

You never have to purchase something from us to be part of this.

You can walk with us.
You can donate directly.
You can share this page.
You can learn more about childhood cancer.
You can tell someone else about Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation.

And if you do choose to purchase from Artistic Chaos Ink during this campaign, know that together we're helping turn something as simple as coloring into something that can make a difference.

For Sophie.

For the children still in treatment.

For the families waiting for answers.

And for the hope that someday, through research, awareness, and generosity we really can Kick Kids’ Cancer. 💛