Fight with Finley

Fight with Finley Contact information, map and directions, contact form, opening hours, services, ratings, photos, videos and announcements from Fight with Finley, Nonprofit Organization, Hokes Bluff, AL.

**February 27, 2025 @ 5 PM, Finley was diagnosed with Leukemia @ Children’s of Alabama

Without a doubt, the most challenging experience we have ever faced was explaining to our 6 year old daughter that she has cancer.

Some days childhood cancer looks like hospital rooms, IV poles, and chemo.Other days it looks like this.Tiny hands that ...
06/17/2026

Some days childhood cancer looks like hospital rooms, IV poles, and chemo.
Other days it looks like this.

Tiny hands that should be coloring pictures, playing outside, and holding toys… now red, peeling, swollen, burning, and hurting from the medicines helping save her life.

Neuropathy has stolen so much comfort from Finley lately. Even simple things hurt. Holding things. Touching things. Using her fingers. Yet somehow she still keeps going. She still smiles. Still plays. Still fights.

As her mom, there’s a helplessness that comes with watching your child hurt and knowing you can’t just make it better. I would take every ounce of this pain from her if I could. We are sure it’s from chemo.

We don’t fully know what’s causing this yet, and honestly that’s one of the hardest parts. Watching your child hurt while waiting for answers feels unbearable.

Right now all we know is her little hands are red, peeling, painful, and making everyday things hard for her. We have a clinic appointment Thursday and are praying for answers, relief, and a plan to help her feel better.

But if these hands tell a story, let it be this:
these are the hands of a warrior.
Hands that have held onto courage through fear.
Hands that keep fighting even on the hardest days.
Hands that remind me daily what true strength looks like.

She is brave.
She is resilient.
And she is so much more than what cancer is trying to do to her.

I love hearing Finley and her siblings using their imagination, laughing, and just being kids. Moments like that hit dif...
06/14/2026

I love hearing Finley and her siblings using their imagination, laughing, and just being kids. Moments like that hit differently now.

At the very beginning of our cancer journey, one of my very first thoughts was… “Is she going to be here?”
That fear never fully leaves a mother’s heart.

So hearing their little voices playing together in another room feels like answered prayers I once cried over in silence. God has been so faithful through every hard day, every hospital stay, every unknown.

Just a little update on Finley’s hands — they are slowly getting better. We’ve been encouraging her to “squish all the squishies” to help work them out. They still hurt, but not like before, and for that we are so thankful.

Sometimes healing looks big and dramatic. Sometimes it looks like tiny hands squeezing squishies while a little girl keeps pushing forward anyway. 🤍 🎗️🎗️

06/14/2026

Another sweet soul is now in the arms of Jesus.

I didn’t know Noah or his family personally, but his story came across my Facebook feed through other moms walking this childhood cancer journey. The moment I saw he had a fungal infection, my heart sank. It instantly brought back every fear, memory, and feeling I’ve tried so hard to suppress from our own long hospital stay.

The endless thoughts start racing again…
What could I have done differently?
Did I bring something in from the outside?
Could I have protected my child more?

These are the kinds of thoughts that haunt childhood cancer parents long after the hospital stay is over.

Once you’re living this life, these moms become more than strangers on the internet. We become each other’s safe place. We understand the fear, the exhaustion, the trauma, and the constant battle of trying to stay mentally afloat while carrying the weight of our children’s lives in our hands. Truthfully, most days we are barely making it.

Please, please pray for Noah’s mom and dad tonight. I may not know them personally, but my heart feels so deeply connected to theirs. No parent should ever have to walk this kind of pain.

Hold your babies a little tighter tonight. Childhood cancer changes all of us forever. 🤍🎗️🎗️🎗️


Every single day I remind my child to take medicine that keeps her alive.And no one really talks about what that does to...
06/12/2026

Every single day I remind my child to take medicine that keeps her alive.

And no one really talks about what that does to a parent’s mind.

The alarms.
The pill boxes.
The “Did you take it yet?”
The constant fear of missing a dose.
The weight of knowing these tiny pills carry so much responsibility.

Some days I catch myself wondering… when Finley finally rings that bell, will I still instinctively remind her to take her meds? Will my brain ever stop living in survival mode?

Because cancer doesn’t just change the child fighting it.
It rewires the parents too.

You become so conditioned to schedules, medications, side effects, labs, appointments, and fear that it’s hard to imagine life without constantly managing it all.

I pray for the day treatment ends.
But I also wonder how long it takes for a parent’s mind to believe the danger has finally passed.

Watching neuropathy slowly take over Finley’s little hands has been heartbreaking.The burning, tingling, pain, swelling,...
06/12/2026

Watching neuropathy slowly take over Finley’s little hands has been heartbreaking.

The burning, tingling, pain, swelling, and weakness have been getting worse, but somehow she still keeps pushing forward. She still wants to play with her friends, and cook, and be a kid through it all.

There are moments I catch her trying to hide how much it hurts because she doesn’t want anyone to worry. Moments where she shakes her hands out, rubs her fingers, or quietly says “my hands hurt” while still trying to smile. As a parent, there’s nothing harder than watching your child hurt and knowing you can’t just take it away.

But if there’s one thing Finley has taught me, it’s what true strength looks like. Not loud strength. Not easy strength. The kind of strength that keeps going even when your body hurts. The kind that chooses courage every single day.

Neuropathy may be making things harder, but it will never take away her spirit. She continues to fight through every hard day with more bravery than most adults could ever imagine.

Please continue praying for relief, healing, and comfort for our sweet girl. 💛

Nobody prepares you to become a mom navigating hard things.Nobody tells you that one day you’ll be signing forms you bar...
06/11/2026

Nobody prepares you to become a mom navigating hard things.

Nobody tells you that one day you’ll be signing forms you barely have the strength to read… holding your child still through difficult moments… learning things you never expected to know… or sitting beside their bed praying things get better.

I never imagined we would , hear life-changing news that our 6 year old daughter has Leukemia. I never imagined our life would become filled with appointments, long days, difficult conversations, and moments no parent should ever have to face.

Advocating for Finley has changed me in every possible way. It has taught me how to speak up when something doesn’t feel right. How to ask hard questions. How to push for answers. How to stay strong in rooms that feel terrifying. Because when it comes to your child, you learn very quickly that your voice matters.

Advocating for a child with complex needs means becoming their voice when they’re too tired, too small, or too scared to speak for themselves. It means carrying the fear, the responsibility, and the heartbreak while still showing up every single day with love.

And somehow, through the exhaustion and uncertainty… we keep going.

To the moms learning everything overnight, surviving on little sleep, juggling endless responsibilities, and still trying to create a normal childhood for your child — I see you.

You are not “just a mom.”�You are an advocate, protector, comforter, researcher, and safe place all in one.

Some days the world only sees the strong version of us.�They don’t see the tears after hard days.�The anxiety while waiting for answers.�The fear before difficult moments.�The way we try to hold everything together because our children need us to.
But Finley has taught me something powerful:�strength doesn’t always look fearless.�Sometimes strength is simply refusing to give up.

So from one mama to another —�trust your instincts.�Ask the questions.�Fight for your child.�Take up space.�Your voice could change everything.

And on the days you feel exhausted, defeated, or unseen, remember this:�our children know who fights for them.�They know who stays.

I will never stop fighting for Finley. 🤍

I never imagined motherhood would look like this.I never imagined that 2 months postpartum we would hear the words that ...
06/10/2026

I never imagined motherhood would look like this.
I never imagined that 2 months postpartum we would hear the words that changed everything — a diagnosis for our 6-year-old daughter. She has leukemia.

One moment I was adjusting to life with a newborn, and the next I was being thrown into a world of hospital stays, specialists, medications, procedures, and fear no parent is ever prepared for.

Being a medical mom has taught me that advocacy is not optional — it is survival.

It’s walking into appointments already exhausted but still making sure every concern is heard.
It’s asking questions even when you feel intimidated.
It’s learning the chemo drugs you never wanted to know because your child’s life depends on understanding them.
It’s carrying fear so quietly that most people never realize how heavy it is.
It’s boxing up your own emotions because there’s no time to break down when your child needs you steady.

I have learned that no one will fight for our children the way we will.
And while this journey is overwhelming and heartbreaking at times, it has also shown me a strength I never knew I had.

I want to use our story not only to fight for my own child, but to help other parents navigating impossible medical situations too. If sharing what we’ve learned helps another parent feel less alone, ask more questions, trust their instincts, or advocate harder for their child, then our story has purpose beyond the pain.

Because these children deserve more than survival.
They deserve voices that never stop fighting for them. 💛

Today was clinic day.And today… we got a date.June 30, 2027.The day our sweet girl is expected to finish treatment.The d...
06/09/2026

Today was clinic day.
And today… we got a date.

June 30, 2027.
The day our sweet girl is expected to finish treatment.
The day we have dreamed about for 467 days.
The day Finley will finally get to ring her bell. 💛

This morning didn’t start great. It started with tears because all Finley wanted was bacon, but she had to be NPO for her lumbar puncture. Those mornings are always so hard because there’s always that fear in the back of my mind — what if she doesn’t make counts? What if she fasted and went through all of this for nothing?

Before we walked in, I asked her if she thought she could be brave and not scream during accessing. I knew she could do it because we’ve worked so hard to get here.

And today, she amazed me.

She didn’t scream while they cleaned her chest. If you know Finley, you know how huge that is. She always says the cold cleaner burns, and usually there are tears before they even begin. But today she barely cried. I sat there watching her thinking how unfair it is that a child has to learn to be this brave.

Today she made counts.
Today she got chemotherapy.
Today she had her lumbar puncture.
And afterwards, she wanted fries and a frozen Coke — because even in the middle of cancer, she’s still just a little girl.

We also found out she’s experiencing neuropathy pain in her fingers and feet, so they started medication for that. Please pray this medicine helps quickly and that the pain goes away completely.

But today also gave us something we have desperately needed: hope we can finally see.

For 467 days, cancer has consumed our lives. It has stolen peace, sleep, normalcy, innocence, and so many moments we can never get back. But today, for the first time in a long time, the finish line felt real.

387 days.

387 more days of fighting.
387 more days of appointments, medicines, procedures, fear, and prayers.
But also 387 days closer to hearing that bell ring.

Please keep praying for our girl. Pray for strength when treatment gets hard, protection from complications and relapse, healing in every part of her body, and remission forever.

And one day — one beautiful day — Finley will ring that gold bell. 💛

💛 National Cancer Survivors Day 💛There was a time when we didn’t know what tomorrow would look like.A time when hospital...
06/08/2026

💛 National Cancer Survivors Day 💛

There was a time when we didn’t know what tomorrow would look like.

A time when hospital rooms became our second home. When every lab result, every scan, every fever, and every procedure carried a weight that felt impossible to bear. A time when our little girl was fighting a battle she never should have had to face.

I remember watching Finley sleep in a hospital bed and wondering how someone so small could carry something so big.

Cancer stole so much from her.

It stole days of childhood.
It stole normalcy.
It stole innocence.

But it never stole her spirit.

It never stole her smile.
It never stole her determination.
And it never stole the light that shines so brightly within her.

Today, on National Cancer Survivors Day, we celebrate more than survival.

We celebrate every needle stick she endured.
Every treatment she faced.
Every tear she cried.
Every fear she conquered.
Every impossible day she made it through.

We celebrate the little girl who taught us what true courage looks like.

The little girl who continues to remind us that joy can exist even in the darkest moments.

Cancer changed our family forever. It changed the way we love, the way we parent, and the way we see each day. We no longer take the ordinary moments for granted because we know just how precious they are.

Today, I look at Finley and sometimes I have to remind myself how far she’s come. There were days when our hopes were measured one hour at a time. Days filled with uncertainty and fear. Now, I watch her smile, make plans for the future, and live the life she fought so hard for. Those ordinary moments that many people take for granted have become some of our greatest gifts. Every laugh, every milestone, every dream she shares is a reminder of just how much she has overcome. 💛🎗️

And I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

To every child still fighting, every survivor, and every family walking this road—you are not alone.

Today we honor the warriors.
Today we honor the survivors.

And today, we celebrate Finley.

Not because cancer was part of her story.

But because she refused to let it define the ending. 💛🎗️

💛

Finding Purpose Through AdvocacyBefore Finley’s cancer diagnosis, I understood medical terminology, treatment plans, lab...
06/07/2026

Finding Purpose Through Advocacy

Before Finley’s cancer diagnosis, I understood medical terminology, treatment plans, lab values, and hospital routines. I am a nurse. But nothing could have prepared me for what it felt like when it was my own child lying in that hospital bed.

Cancer changed everything.

It changed the way I parent. It changed the way I see the world. It changed the way I walk into a hospital room. Most of all, it changed the way I advocate.

I still remember the fear of those long hospital days and sleepless nights. The endless waiting for answers. The moments when every lab result, every scan, every fever, and every new symptom felt like it could change everything. I remember feeling like I had to be strong while quietly falling apart inside.

There were days I sat by Finley’s bedside watching monitors and wondering what the next hour would bring. Days when I questioned everything. Days when I researched until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Days when I had to find the courage to ask hard questions because I knew my daughter was depending on me to be her voice.

What many people don’t see is that advocacy is often born from fear and love. You learn to speak up because you have no other choice. You learn to ask questions because your child’s future matters more than your own comfort. You learn to trust your instincts because sometimes they are the only thing guiding you through the uncertainty.

Our journey wasn’t just about fighting cancer. It was about navigating infections, complications, specialists, procedures, and decisions that no parent ever expects to make. It was about learning that it’s okay to say, “I don’t understand.” It’s okay to ask for another explanation. It’s okay to ask for the attending physician. It’s okay to ask if another specialist should be involved.

Looking back now, I realize that some of the hardest moments of Finley’s journey have given me a purpose I never expected.

When another parent reaches out scared and overwhelmed, I see a little bit of myself in them. I remember sitting in those hospital rooms feeling like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. If I can help another parent feel less alone, ask one more question, or find the confidence to trust their instincts, then sharing our story is worth it.

Finley’s cancer journey has left scars on all of us, some visible and some not. But it has also shown me how incredibly strong she is. Today, I watch her play, laugh, dream about being a cheerleader, spend time with her friends, and do all the things kids should be doing. Those moments mean more than they ever did before.

Cancer tried to take so much from her, but it didn’t take her joy. It didn’t take her determination. And it didn’t take away our ability to fight for her.

If there is one thing I hope other parents know, it’s this: your voice matters. Your questions matter. Your concerns matter. No one will ever know your child the way you do.

And if walking through the darkest season of our lives allows me to help another family find their voice, then maybe that’s part of the purpose we’ve found in all of this.

For every scared parent sitting beside a hospital bed tonight, I see you. I’ve been there. Keep asking questions. Keep trusting your instincts. Keep fighting for your child.

They are worth every single fight. ❤️🎗️

If our story has touched you, please share it. Our hope is to reach other families walking through childhood cancer and complex medical journeys. We want to help educate, encourage parents to advocate for their children, and be a listening ear for those who feel overwhelmed and alone. Sometimes the greatest gift you can give a struggling family is knowing someone else understands. If sharing Finley’s journey helps even one family feel seen, supported, or empowered to speak up for their child, then every part of our story is worth telling. ❤️🎗️

Address

Hokes Bluff, AL

Telephone

+12565044664

Website

Alerts

Be the first to know and let us send you an email when Fight with Finley posts news and promotions. Your email address will not be used for any other purpose, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

Contact The Organization

Send a message to Fight with Finley:

Shortcuts

Share

Category