“I created my daughter and then I removed her from the world.”
I was both relieved and saddened as I held Deborah’s hand as she breathed her last. She was in anguish, and my lovely, tornado of a daughter was gone.
Being the mother of a deceased child is difficult every day, but tomorrow will be very difficult.
I will always be a mother of three, even after the death of one of my children. However, my thoughts are with my grandkids, Hugo, 16, and Eloise, 14, who have lost their amazing mother.
It’s not acceptable for them to give her a hug or send her a card.
All I can do for them now, like I have for the last twenty-one months, is love and support them.
Dame Deborah James, my eldest daughter, passed away five and a half years after receiving the diagnosis of intestinal cancer. Her age was forty.
The idea that the world has continued without her is still difficult to accept. From her early years, she was already such a powerful force in the world.
Deborah, who was 35 years old and has two children, ages nine and seven, was diagnosed in December of 2016.
She was a young, healthy, energetic lady who abstained from meat and smoking. However, she was feeling exhausted, had bloody stools, and was losing weight.
It was rather distressing to learn that she had colon cancer because at first it was assumed to be stress or IBS.
However, I assumed that after chemotherapy and surgery, she would quickly recover and be well again.
After a few weeks and further testing, I was surprised to learn that the cancer had progressed to the fourth stage.
It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that Deborah was bold and resolute; that was exactly her nature.
She wanted to help others in addition to taking care of her own disease.
She felt compelled to raise awareness about cancer, its signs, and the value of listening to your body.
“She wished her children could live in a better world.”
Soon after learning she had cancer, she began writing a column for The Sun and launched the Bowelbabe blog.
Following that, she worked with The Sun to decrease the NHS screening age, co-hosted the well-liked podcast You, Me, and the Big C, pushed others to get tested, and spoke about poop whenever she could.
The most significant thing in her life was her children. She longed for Hugo and Eloise’s betterment. She imagined a moment when cancer would not be a concern for them.
That concept served as the foundation for one of her largest and final undertakings, the Bowelbabe Fund.
She established it to fund cancer research and contribute to the development of novel cancer treatments in the final weeks of her life.
She gave it everything she had since she knew her time was limited.
Having said that, Deborah’s impact goes well beyond the job she completed and the lives she has saved—and continues to save.
Her life counsel was the greatest gift she could have given us all.
Her children exhibit this trait, in my opinion: she lived each day to the fullest and found delight in everything. The two of them share her enthusiasm and vigor.
The weekend before she passed away, she advised them to lead happy lives.
“Enjoy every moment because you never know when life will end,” she remarked. I try to keep that slogan in mind as well.
The greatest things are usually saved for “holidays and high days,” when I like to put things off. I’m going to get a scream from Deborah! She was the complete opposite; she would dress in her favorite gowns whenever possible.
Since her passing, I’ve made an effort to maintain her bold, upbeat outlook.
I try to savor every moment more, I dress up for no apparent reason, and I now wear beautiful earrings as she did. It brings me and her closer.
“I was sorry I couldn’t take away her suffering.”
When Deborah was originally diagnosed with colon cancer, her prognosis was that she definitely wouldn’t live through the next year.
It was difficult for me to grasp. How I could lose my kid in a few of months is beyond me.
But owing to her own inner strength and treatment, Deborah repeatedly overcame the odds.
She endured a great deal, including radiation, chemotherapy, bowel removal, and several potent medication combinations. She refused to give in.
Despite being really unwell on our final Mother’s Day together in March 2022, Mom nevertheless made plans to have lunch at my house.
I will always remember that day. She constantly got better, so I honestly didn’t imagine it would be our final time together.
Deborah was informed there was nothing more the doctors could do and she only had a few days to live, so in May 2022 she departed The Royal Marsden Hospital. It was then that I had to confront my greatest fear.
I felt helpless in my role as her mother. I was very sorry I could not take away her suffering.
She therefore moved in with us. We had a great time together for seven weeks throughout our time with her.
She organized movie evenings and hosted her 33-year-old brother Ben and his fiancée an impromptu engagement celebration. Prince William had even invited her over for tea after Buckingham Palace had declared her a dame.
It was an odd period, filled with love, grief, and joy in equal measure. It is something I will never forget.
Most evenings, Deborah and I remained up together since neither of us could sleep. Neither of us wanted her to wake up.
We had a lengthy conversation. I reassured her that she was resilient and vowed to support her children.
Regaining my baby back was the feeling I had when I was my dying daughter’s child. Our affection for one another developed as we were unable to remain apart from one another.
When she died, I held her hand in mine. I’m relieved that she passed away peacefully after everything that she had gone through.
After her death, for the first year, I was high on adrenaline. I tried my hardest to support Deborah’s 44-year-old husband Seb and their children.
I didn’t truly cope with my loss; instead, I stayed occupied to divert my attention from how awful things were.
I was unable to leave the house due to severe panic episodes I experienced around the anniversary of her death.
I felt like everything had caught up to me and I was exhausted mentally and physically.
I was prescribed antidepressants, even though at first I didn’t want to take them. However, looking at Deborah’s photos and chatting about her also makes me feel better.
At the start of this year, I felt better. Sarah turned forty years old last month, and my son Ben is getting married in April.
Though we know Deborah would want us to savor these special days for her, we still miss her a much.
Even though Deborah is no longer with us, her legacy endures in her efforts raising money and awareness as well as in her family, particularly in her kids.