David Codina Riqué: "We are the love we receive"

The last week of August two years ago, while we were finishing our vacation, Meritxell went for a medical appointment. She had a lump in her breast that might not be a benign nodule like some she'd had before. The first week of September, they confirmed it was a tumor. From the very beginning, we decided to share everything we learned with our daughter. She knows that the medical appointments and tests are meant to find out what the lump is and how it can be made smaller or removed. Meritxell shows it to her and lets her touch it.

And one day the treatment begins.

— And we open the door to him if he wants to come someday to accompany or pick up his mother during her treatment. There is one day he says yes.

In the story you explain some difficult moments.

— One of these difficult moments is hair loss. Dealing with a disease like this is tough, and on top of that, not being able to go unnoticed. It was one of the hardest topics for us to tell our daughter. We knew her hair would fall out, but we didn't want to give the information away. Until one car ride, she asked, "But Mom, will your hair lose it too?" We told her, "During the treatment, yes. And then it will grow back." I remember Mariona's reaction was less intense than we expected.

Despite the illness, there would also be beautiful moments.

— A precious moment was when Meritxell decided to shave her hair. Our daughter initially went to her room because she didn't want to see him, but she heard us talking and gradually came closer until she finally picked up the razor and helped me run it over Meritxell's head. When we finished, she asked her mom to take a picture together because she wanted to show it to her class the next day. Brutally exciting.

TRUE.

— After a few days, she asked Meritxell if she could go to school to explain her illness because there were so many children asking about her. The experience, for Mariona, the other children, and Meritxell, was very beautiful and enriching.

The operation went well.

— The night before, I took Mariona to sleep at a friend's house. As I said goodbye, she said something I'll always remember: "I think it's the saddest night to sleep at a friend's house," and she started to cry. I still get emotional when I tell it. We hugged, and I told her I understood and that I was a little sad too. But I also wanted her to have the operation because it meant they would remove the remaining part of the lump and Mom would be cured.

What idea guided you throughout the entire process?

— The reality principle is one of the premises we've always embraced at home. What is, is. And in light of this, we share with transparency and sincerity. Life is joy and sadness. It's gain and loss. As father and mother, we want to accompany our daughter's growth as consciously as possible, and that drives us to talk openly about everything. And, believe me, it's beautiful.

You're an emotional intelligence specialist, and your partner is a special education specialist. Does that make you better-prepared parents?

— The problem for a daughter whose father and mother are professional educators is that we can demand that she be, in practice, everything we know in theory. That is, that she be the perfect example of education. Therefore, our job is to accept her imperfections, to accept that there are moments and attitudes that aren't what we would like but that are part of her growth. The challenge is knowing how to navigate between demand and laxity, between too much and too little. In the end, it's about appreciation and trust. We are the love we receive. We are the trust and lack of trust that is transmitted to us. Trust generates self-confidence. Esteem generates self-esteem.