The night before my daughter Alex was born, I had some contractions, but I thought they were fake. Alex wasn’t due for six weeks. We were still getting used to the enormity of the love and responsibility that came with being parents to one child, our then 15-month-old son Patrick. Never would I have imagined that the next day, Jay would be speeding me to the emergency room straight from the doctor’s office.

Alex, my amazing daughter, was born one hour later, a beautiful, healthy surprise. She’d keep surprising us over the course of her life — and even afterwards.

If Alex was here, we’d be celebrating her 29th birthday.

We miss her every day.

Alex died at age 8 from neuroblastoma. That diagnosis was, of course, unpleasant, terrifying news. It came on her first birthday. We sat in the ICU with her and learned that Alex had cancer – neuroblastoma. We were told she'd have a tough fight ahead and that she was paralyzed during surgery, so if she survived, she'd most likely never walk. I know I spent Alex’s first birthday, and every birthday after that one, wishing cancer away — wishing all of this was some awful mistake.

Those wishes of course never came true. But Alex’s life was not one marked only by hardship — in fact, my daughter celebrated seven more birthdays that she fought to live and defied the odds. Alex found ways to surprise us in the most profound, beautiful, love-filled ways. Alex walked — on feet she could not feel — even though doctors said she probably would not. She endured treatment after treatment, surprising us when one treatment made her feel so good, that she asked to a hold lemonade stand.

I was surprised then — why would my daughter want to hold a lemonade stand? And surprised even more when we held her first lemonade stand and Alex raised so much money. She kept surprising us, even as her health declined and her body surely wanted her to stop, but Alex didn’t stop.

I remember the day I heard her tell a reporter that she planned to raise $1 million.

Boy, was I surprised then! I never anticipated my sweet Alex, who had so much stacked against her, to turn out to be such a force in this world.

And then, after Alex died, I am not sure I anticipated everything that was ahead. The grief, of course, will be forever. But, I had no idea that the movement Alex ignited would lead us to where I am today — a proud mother full of gratitude. Twenty-one birthdays later, the reasons to celebrate Alex’s life have only grown in number. The movement and Foundation she founded have led to breakthroughs in research, cures for children to have long, full lives, and an amazing community of families just like us, who have found beautiful surprises in ugly, scary places.

Looking back on that night in the ICU, I couldn't have imagined that Alex would show us how to find so much light in the darkness and bring so much hope to others. 

And if I think back to the day she was born 29 years ago, when Alex surprised us with her early arrival, I feel overwhelmingly grateful for the opportunity to be her mom. 

Happy Birthday, Alex. I love you; I miss you, and I'll continue to fight for a world that's worthy of your memory. 

On January 18, we are celebrating what would've been Alex's 29th birthday at our annual Lemon Ball gala in Philadelphia. You can honor her life and legacy by donating to The Lemon Ball to help realize her vision of a future free of childhood cancer. 

Donate in honor of Alex's birthday.