For most families, childhood is a time of scraped knees, first days of school, and backyard adventures. But for the Oettel family of Mount Juliet, Tennessee, childhood took a drastically different turn when Vivian, their bright and spirited daughter, was diagnosed with cancer. What followed was a journey filled with fear, uncertainty, and countless hospital stays—but also remarkable resilience, unwavering faith, and a bond between mother and daughter that grew stronger with every challenge. Through sleepless nights, rounds of treatment, and moments that tested the limits of human endurance, Jessica and Vivian discovered the extraordinary strength within themselves and the sustaining power of faith. Their story is not just about survival; it’s about love, courage, and hope in the face of life’s most unimaginable trials.
When Jessica Oettel first heard the words “your child has cancer,” it felt like the ground dropped out from under her. “My first reaction was pure terror. My mind raced through every worst-case scenario-Would she survive? How much would she suffer? How could we possibly do this? I felt like my chest was caving in. All I wanted was to protect her, but I realized I couldn’t shield her from what was coming. That helplessness was crushing. At the same time, I felt a desperate cry rise up inside me: ‘Jesus, please. Please don’t take my baby.’ My prayers were raw, unpolished, just begging God to spare her life. Faith didn’t cancel the fear, but it gave me something solid to hold onto. I feared losing her, feared the unknown, feared for our family. Even in the fog, the mama-instinct kicked in. I asked the doctors questions, wrote everything down, tracked meds and symptoms, and reached out to family and friends. Those first days were a blur of fear, prayer, and survival mode. I didn’t know what the journey would hold, but I knew I would fight for my daughter with everything in me, and cling to Jesus every step.”
Vivian recalls sensing the fear. “I wasn’t sure what cancer meant, but I could tell something bad was happening from the looks on my parents’ faces.”
Life during treatment became a world apart. For nearly a year, hospital walls became home, and days were measured by chemotherapy schedules, lab results, and the constant beeping of monitors. Holidays, birthdays, and ordinary routines faded. “Our whole world flipped upside down. Daily routines weren’t ‘daily routines’ anymore—they were hospital life. We lived in the hospital for nearly a year, everything revolved around chemo, rounds, and labs. Isolation became normal. To protect her fragile immune system, we couldn’t risk being around people. Our home was quiet and closed-off, but in the middle of all that loss, we had more family time than ever. I never left her side. She could look over and know I was right there. And somehow, even on the hardest days, Vivian kept bringing laughter. She lightened the heaviness with jokes, silly dances, or a smile at impossible times. We carried each other like that: I stayed so she was never alone, and she kept finding ways to make me laugh.”
Vivian remembers it simply: “Mama was always with me and prayed with me. She never left the hospital and let me sleep beside her once we came home.”
There was never one single moment when everything suddenly felt “okay.” Jessica explains, “It was a slow realization that even in the darkest places, Jesus was carrying us. There were nights I thought I couldn’t do it another day, but morning would come, and we’d do it again. That strength didn’t come from me—it came from Him. Vivian amazed me with her courage and laughter. The only thing that gave us strength was Jesus. Believing His promises even when fear screamed louder. Knowing we weren’t walking it alone. That was the turning point-not when circumstances got easier, but when I understood He would never let go of us.”
Vivian adds: “When things felt too much, I remembered friends who had made it through treatment and trusted that Jesus had a plan.”
The start of her teenage years brings new challenges. “Nothing about life after treatment feels ‘normal.’ Cancer may be behind us, but long-term effects remain. Physically, she has side effects to manage. Emotionally, the shadow lingers. One of the hardest parts is helping her move out of the ‘cancer child’ mentality. During treatment, indulgence and comfort were necessary. Now, we’ve had to guide, set boundaries, and teach responsibility, which can feel like whiplash. She’s figuring out who she is, battling health anxiety, and carrying a legacy most peers won’t understand. There are heavy moments, but we face them together. Vivian and I are truly best friends. She might push back like any preteen, but underneath it all is a bond forged in hospital rooms and sleepless nights. Even when working through hard stuff, she knows I’m beside her, and I know she’s strong enough to keep walking forward.”
Vivian’s goals are clear: “Now that treatment is done, I want to grow my foundation to help as many kids going through cancer as possible. I’d love to make this my full-time job and help kids nationwide.”
Healing is ongoing. Jessica says, “This is a daily journey. We cling to faith. We are both in counseling. We lean on each other and our ‘safe people.’ All five of us are working through some PTSD, and that takes time to heal.” Vivian reflects: “During my first year, I didn’t realize how sick I really was. I didn’t know I should’ve been scared. Looking back, I am so thankful God pulled me through, which has deepened my desire to be close to Him and in the Bible every day.”
Faith has been central. Jessica shares, “As a parent, there’s a place you pray you’ll never know, the place where you are on your knees, begging God to save your child while machines breathe for them. I never wanted to know that place, but I did. While I would give anything for Vivian to have been spared suffering, in that agony, my faith deepened in ways I never thought possible. It was raw, desperate, unpolished, but real. I found a God who never let go of us.”
Vivian’s faith is equally remarkable: “I know Jesus was with me the whole time. When I was scared, I just talked to Him. I know He’s the reason I’m still here. Now, I work through anxiety with prayer, worship music, and support from my mom and friends. I focus on my foundation, adding items to wishlists and finding ways to help. I keep believing and praying that one day the fear will get better, and that other kids don’t have to feel this way.”
Their story is a testament to love, resilience, and faith. Through sleepless nights, endless treatments, and fear, the Oettels discovered the extraordinary in the ordinary: the strength of a mother’s presence, the courage of a child, and the sustaining power of faith. While the journey continues, both mother and daughter carry a hope beyond their own healing-a hope that their experiences can light the way for others facing life’s most unimaginable battles.
After treatment, Vivian started a foundation to support kids battling cancer, offering hope, encouragement, and resources. Helping others is part of her healing, turning fear and struggle into a mission to inspire and uplift families.
“Even in the fog, the mama-instinct kicked in. I asked the doctors questions, tracked meds, and reached out to family and friends. Those first days were a blur of fear, prayer, and survival mode.” – Jessica Oettel
“Mama was always with me and prayed with me. She never left the hospital and let me sleep beside her once we came home.” – Vivian Oettel