A Mother’s Fight, A Mother’s Faith: My Journey with Stage IV Breast Cancer

Hello, beautiful souls. My name is Ashley Stock, and if you’re reading this, you’re about to step into my world—a world of relentless hope, unshakable faith, and a fierce determination to make every moment count. Six years ago, my life turned upside down with a stage IV breast cancer diagnosis, but this story isn’t just about cancer. It’s about a single mom, her incredible son, a daughter I pray for every day, and a mission to turn pain into purpose. So, grab a cup of coffee, settle in, and let’s walk this road together. If my story resonates with you, hit that subscribe button to join me on this journey of faith and resilience.


In June 2019, my life was already a whirlwind. I was recovering from waking up from a five-year narcissistic, emotionally abusive relationship, and after a few moths the rekindling of a long-lost love, and a severe hepatitis A infection I contracted from a restaurant meal while celebrating my birthday with said long-lost love, let’s call him Lane. I was exhausted, down 50 pounds, and barely able to stay awake. Lane’s dog, my unexpected guardian angel, started acting strangely—corralling me into the bedroom when company came and crying while resting his head on my right breast. I hadn’t done a self-breast exam, but his behavior was a wake-up call. I visited my doctor, who’d known me since I was eight, and the moment he saw the visible lump and dimpling in my breast, he knew. “Late stage III breast cancer,” he said, scheduling a mammogram to confirm. The next day, the diagnosis was real.
But cancer wasn’t the only battle. My liver, battered by hepatitis A, was failing—my skin and eyes were yellow, my liver enzymes at a staggering 9,000. I spent six days in the hospital on IV fluids to stabilize before I could even face surgery. Three months later, I underwent a double mastectomy and a radical lymph node removal. A bone scan showed no metastasis, and I dared to hope. But on January 3, 2020, alone with my radiology report from a holiday PET scan, I read words that shattered me: “metabolic activity,” “metastatic,” “lesions in vertebrae, ribs, femur, hips.” Stage IV. I cried for three days, consumed by thoughts of death and what it would mean for my son.
Then, on the third day, a voice—clear as a phone call—spoke to my heart: “Ashley, after you close your eyes here on earth, you know exactly where you’ll be. In heaven with me. Stop wasting the time I’m giving you thinking about death and what will happen here on Earth after you’re gone.” That moment changed everything. I decided to live fully in the here and now, not just for me, but for others. Want to hear more about how I’m turning pain into purpose? Subscribe to my blog and let’s keep this conversation going.


Life as a single mom with stage IV cancer is a rollercoaster. My son, my rock, has been by my side through every chemo session, every scan, every tear. We’ve made it a point to cherish every moment—movie nights, silly all-nighters, heart-to-heart talks. But cancer stole more than my health. Before my diagnosis, I had an upper-middle-class job and a comfortable life. Overnight, that vanished. My savings drained, my car—six months from being paid off after five and a half years—was repossessed. For a year, I lived on zero income because doctors, ever “optimistic,” didn’t confirm I’d be out of work for 12 months until month 11, delaying my Social Security application. I relied on God to provide, and He did—through kind neighbors, church support, and sheer miracles. That year deepened my faith and opened my eyes to the struggles disabled Americans face daily.
Nonprofits helped, and I’m grateful, but their aid—$450 here, $700 there, often once-in-a-lifetime—comes with paperwork and deadlines that overwhelm an already burdened patient. Between insurance battles, appointments, and scans, it’s a lot. Yet, through it all, my son and I keep smiling, even if we can’t afford the adventures we once dreamed of—trips to the beach, amusement parks, or even simple outings. If my story is touching your heart, please subscribe. Your support keeps this blog alive and fuels my mission to help others.


My heart aches for my daughter, who moved to California seven years ago. We were close until she embraced a worldview that clashed with mine. I tried to understand, asking questions with an open heart, but she was encouraged to see my efforts as judgment. She went no-contact, and it’s a wound that never heals. I message her often, telling her I love her, that she’s always welcome, that I’ll never judge her. I pray daily for her return, trusting God’s timing. This pain, like my cancer, has shaped me, but it hasn’t broken me.


Now, let me share my dream. I’m fighting not just to survive but to thrive—and to help other single moms with stage IV breast cancer do the same. I’m currently facing a possible fatal side effect cause by a combination of biophosphonate (Zometa) therapy to keep my bones strong (except for the unexplainable side effect it has on the jaw, it weakens the jaw and causes it to become unable to heal itself) and chemo which has caused significant decay in my teeth. I have several teeth that are on the brink of needing extraction but extraction damages the jaw and puts me on a collision course with osteonecrosis of the jaw (ONJ). Do yourself a favor and don’t look it up, it’s disgusting! But it’s also a horrific way to die. Once the process begins, there’s no fixing it. It’s just a 30-40 month ride of excruciating pain as your jaw rots away. But, I’m optimistic the dentist who is working with me, even though he knows I’m having to crowdsource funds, and who goes out of his way to let me know he cares more about saving my life than collecting payment at every visit (even though we all know, I’m racking up a bill that by my best estimate, based on what I know dental work costs, is at least $12k and that’s just cost of materials (I was a financial statement auditor and cost accountant for most of my career before I flipped the script and bought a custom cabinet shop and learned how to build cabinets, entertainment centers and built-ins, in my former life). So, initially, my fundraising efforts will be going to save my life, so I can get on with the business of living! After I beat this, I want to start a nonprofit giving cash grants to vetted single moms with late-stage breast cancer. These grants will let them make memories with their kids—whether it’s a trip to Disney, a quiet picnic, or anything their hearts desire. I might ask for receipts or photos to ensure the funds create those precious moments, but the goal is the freedom to choose what brings joy. My Mustard Seed Heart Ministry is the seed of this vision, and I’ll dive deeper into it in my next blog post. Excited to learn more about my ministry? Subscribe now to catch the next entry!


This blog is my heart on a page—a place to share my struggles, my faith, and my mission. If you feel moved to support this journey, consider subscribing. I’m exploring a paid subscription option, where funds will sustain this blog and grow my Mustard Seed Heart Ministry to help single moms like me. Your support, whether free or paid, means the world. Join me today—subscribe and let’s make a difference together! If you feel led to donate to my GoFundMe campaign, here is my link: https://gofund.me/2b00cc10rns in your post.