Ashton’s story begins with her. Our beautiful, big-hearted, kind, loving, selfless girl. Our “mini mama.” 

Ever since she was born, Ashton has been such a light in our life, with the most contagious giggle. Ashton is my calming presence. Her love of life, family, helping others, and selflessness are just a few of the reasons Ashton is so special to us.

We have been blessed with five daughters, Ashton being our second born. In a house with all girls, we are so thankful that they already have an unbreakable bond. The type that only sisters can.  

Ashton’s cancer story didn’t start with a brain scan. It began weeks before her cancer was discovered. 

During the summer of 2023, she couldn't keep up with her sisters and was lying down or sleeping more than being active. Often, she wasn’t interested in going to fun places with us like Kings Island or playing outside in the water bounce house in our backyard. She began having symptoms like dizziness, followed by a few consecutive weeks with terrible headaches that seemed to get worse with time. 

One day, I asked Ashton where exactly her head hurt. She pointed to the lower back side of her head, almost where her spine meets her skull. That was the first time the “C” word ran across my mind. But as we often do, I assumed she must be having migraines and I told myself, “No way, not us. This can’t be cancer.” But I knew this was not a normal location for a child’s headache. I talked myself out of anything serious again but decided to keep a closer eye on her symptoms.

As her headaches started getting more frequent, and the medicine not touching her pain, she came home from cheer practice one night with a headache so bad she started screaming. The “C” word again popped into my mind, and I called my mom crying, asking if she could come watch the girls so I could take Ashton to the ER because my husband was out of town.

I justified my concerns and quelled them by telling myself “I’m just being paranoid. There is no way. Not us.”

Even though I was talking myself out of Ashton’s headaches being something too serious, I brought her to the ER that same night. Upon getting there though, they didn’t find any symptoms of concern and instead sent us to urgent care. While menial exercises were completed, the remedy was for Ashton to “drink mountain dew.” So, on our way home we stopped at the store, grabbed some caffeinated drinks, and went to bed.

 It couldn’t be cancer, right? 

Over the next two weeks though, Ashton’s symptoms quickly worsened. Along with frequent, excruciating headaches, and now vomiting, my concerns continued so I made a headache appointment with her pediatrician, as also suggested by the doctor at Children’s urgent care. 

We never made it to that appointment.  

As Ashton was getting ready for her second day of school, she got sick again. Everything came to a final point where I was done justifying and needed answers. I knew something was wrong, and I wasn’t going to waste any more time.  

On August 22, 2023, my husband rushed her to the ER. They did a CT scan right away and it was then they found a large, aggressive tumor in her cerebellum. When my husband called with the doctor on speaker, I was hoping it was nothing. But my intuition knew. 

My fears were confirmed, our lives changed forever. The initial CT scan showed a 3x4cm mass in the back of her brain, right by her brain stem. It was a tumor.

As the doctor told us, tears began rolling down my face and I could barely breathe. How was this happening? To Ashton, to our family? Our world as we knew it changed in an instant. Suddenly there were so many unknowns, and my mind was racing. I was praying. And I couldn’t wait to hold my baby girl again. This time I wouldn’t be able to take all her pain away.

Immediately Ashton was rushed to the ICU at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital downtown by ambulance, where she was quickly admitted. 

All within 24 hours, we learned Ashton had an aggressive form of brain cancer and was to undergo a nine-hour surgery in three days. Even more scary – she had to constantly be monitored beforehand in case things went downhill fast. 

We spent the last day before her surgery surrounded by family and her closest friends. She enjoyed all the surprises people brought and had a smile on her face all day. It was just like “before.” Before we knew about her cancer. Before everything changed.  

The days leading up to her surgery were torture. While we pled with doctors for some sort of inkling of our daughter’s type of cancer and survival rate, doctors were unable to provide us with anything until they had the pathology results. The minutes, hours, and days were a torturous waiting game. Before learning the answers we so desperately needed, the wait between pre-surgery, surgery, and post-surgery for outcomes and biopsy results were the hardest days of our lives.

That last day, Ashton loved on her new baby doll, wore her new Rebecca Zamolo swag (her favorite youtuber), and crafted her little heart out. She told me later that night it was the best day ever. And that was exactly what I wanted her to hold onto, as we anxiously waited for what the next day held.  

August 25th was memorable for the complete opposite reasons from the day before. 

Forever etched in my mind will be the day Ashton had her 12-hour brain surgery. Every minute seemed like an eternity as we waited on the hourly surgical update call to learn how her surgery was going. By the end of the day, however, we learned that the MRI showed that the cancer had not spread to her spine and that her neurosurgeon was able to remove the full tumor (days later however, we learned that in fact they were not able to remove all of her tumor, and that it was still going to continue growing in her brain). 

After surgery, I witnessed Ashton wreathing in pain. My six-year-old daughter crying that it “wasn’t fair.” My heart was torn from my chest. I felt like I was breaking inside. This was now our reality. Ashton didn’t deserve this. No kid deserves this.

When it was time to meet with the oncologist and neurosurgeon, we learned that she had a type of childhood brain cancer called medulloblastoma. We learned all about her type of cancer and life expectancy. We also talked about her long path to recovery and how if the cancer came back, it would be more virulent than ever. 

Words like chemo, radiation, fertility, life expectancy, and more were not things we “just knew about.” These were our daughter’s reality, and decisions we would need to make on her behalf. With very little time to decide. This included her fertility, and our decision to opt for ovarian tissue preservation, where they surgically remove one of her ovaries, and will put it back in when she’s ready to have children.

Ashton turned 7 in the hospital on September 2, 2023. People from around the world have been praying for her. Our community lifted us up more than we could ever have imaged and have done everything one could think of to help our family. To make her birthday extra special, we created a wish list of items, and hundreds of people sent gifts.  

Her love, kindness, and joy for life are as contagious as her sweet giggle. Ashton has already endured so much, but it probably won't hold a candle to what is coming with her radiation, chemo, fertility procedure, ovarian tissue preservation. 

 Ashton's strength and positive attitude are what's keeping us all going right now. Our faith and hope are continually guiding us through to the belief that her cancer will be fully eradicated, and she can return to a normal life one day.

Through these past four weeks Ashton’s been in the hospital, she’s endured what no kid should ever have to go through. She went days without being able to see, unimaginable pain, relearning how to walk, count, and how to use her hands. Through it all, she's been so resilient, strong, and courageous. I am just in awe of her. 

Ashton continues to surpass our expectations every day and started walking with assistance. She's doing great, and it's all because of her strength. 

 We’ve had countless ups and downs, fears and triumphs, but still so many unknowns. While Ashton has a long road ahead with radiation, ovarian tissue preservation surgery, and chemotherapy, through the faith of God, we believe that she will heal and have a beautiful life.

Thank you for choosing to donate to The Cure Starts Now Foundation. 100% of this donation, after credit card processing fees, goes directly towards research to find the homerun cure for cancer starting with pediatric brain cancer research.

If you would like to make a donation by mail please send a check to:  The Cure Starts Now Foundation; 10280 Chester Road; Cincinnati, OH 45215 and put the child's name in the memo.

The family receives notification of all donations made to this tribute fund automatically.