Mom of 3 Thought It Was Pregnancy Pain. Then She Learned She’d Been Living with Terminal Cancer for 5 Years (Exclusive)

When Michelle Hughes was 35 weeks pregnant with her first child in 2016, she began experiencing a sharp, uncomfortable pain beneath the right side of her rib cage. Assuming it was just another side effect of pregnancy, she mentioned it casually during a routine prenatal appointment. Her obstetrician recommended an ultrasound to check for gallbladder issues — a common concern during pregnancy.

At the time, Michelle, now 38, welcomed the extra opportunity to see her baby on the screen. But when the results came back, her gallbladder appeared normal. Instead, doctors had discovered something unexpected: a hemangioma on her liver.

They explained it was a blood-filled cyst — common, benign and likely not the cause of her discomfort. “You’ll welcome your baby,” they reassured her, she recalls, “and if the pain persists, we can revisit it.” A follow-up was recommended in a year, just to be safe.

Her daughter Juliet arrived early, at 36 weeks, and Michelle and her husband, Ty, now 39, were swept up in the beautiful chaos of new parenthood. After years of infertility, including the stillbirth of a son, they were finally a family.

“She made me a mom,” Michelle tells PEOPLE exclusively over Zoom. “We had our first take-home baby.”

Like many new mothers, Michelle focused entirely on her daughter, pushing her own discomfort aside. The pain beneath her ribs wasn’t debilitating — just a persistent, nagging sensation that flared up from time to time. With a newborn to care for, it was easy to ignore.

Follow-up ultrasounds continued to show the same thing: the hemangioma was stable. So, life moved forward. Michelle returned to work as a social worker and, hoping to further grow their family, began fertility treatments again. She eventually became pregnant with their second daughter, Adeline.

Life became even more hectic as Michelle juggled parenting, caregiving and her own unresolved health issues — which she continued to brush off. The pain came and went. Occasionally, it worsened enough to send her back to the hospital, but each time, doctors gave the same response: “It’s just the hemangioma. It hasn’t changed. You’re okay.” And she believed them.

Then in 2021, while pregnant with her third child, Michelle began experiencing complications with her pregnancy. Her placenta ruptured at 35 weeks.

“We were very, very blessed that he was born safe. I was safe,” Michelle says.

Her newborn son Hatton spent time in the NICU, but eventually they were discharged and able to settle in at home. Then the unimaginable happened.

Only a few days later, she collapsed on the floor. Her children, sister, nieces and nephews were nearby. Her husband rushed her to the emergency room.

“My heart rate was in the 180s,” Michelle recalls. “They rushed me to the trauma room and immediately did a CT scan.”

What they found shocked everyone: her lungs were filled with innumerable tumors. There were also 15 cysts on her liver. She recalls how the doctor looked at her and said, “We have no idea how this just happened.”

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Only weeks earlier, Michelle had undergone another ultrasound for her liver hemangioma — still unchanged. At first, doctors suspected the tumors might be linked to her difficult delivery, possibly a result of the placental rupture or even an infection. But for the first time in five years, there was agreement: something was seriously wrong.

Then in Prince Edward Island, Hughes was transferred to Moncton, New Brunswick, for a biopsy. Because of COVID-19 restrictions, she had to go alone.

“The biopsy was supposed to be a quick day procedure,” she says. “I was there with my breast pump, just focused on feeding my baby. All I could think about was getting home to my children. I’m a mama, and that was what was going to get me through this strange medical stuff that was happening.”

But during the procedure, Michelle experienced internal bleeding and was rushed to the ICU. Her family was called to the hospital, and she was admitted for several days for further testing.

Not much later, her mother was at her side when the doctor returned with results on Aug. 20, 2021.

“The doctor walked in and said, ‘I’m sorry, but this is cancer,’ ” she remembers. “He said, ‘I’ve never even heard of it. I don’t even know how to pronounce the name.’ And my first response was, ‘Well, that’s reassuring.’ ”

The diagnosis: Stage 4 EHE Sarcoma Cancer — an ultra-rare, terminal sarcoma, one that doesn’t show up on ultrasounds.

“My mom looks at the doctor and said, ‘How long does she have?’ That was her first initial response. And I’m laying there holding my son, who’s 3 weeks old, in my arms thinking, ‘Is this real life? How is this happening? And how has this hemangioma been cancer for all of these years?’ ”

From there, Michelle was sent home to wait for next steps. The family had planned to fly home to the Northwest Territories — but they never did. Instead, they remained in Prince Edward Island, waiting for answers on what would happen next.

Then came a phone call: if the cancer was limited to her liver and lungs, she might qualify for a liver transplant.

“For me, I was like, this is my chance to survive for my kids. I can do a liver transplant — that’ll be easy. Sign me up. There’s a plan here.”

But a PET scan revealed cancer in her thigh and knee. So she lost her liver transplant.

“The doctor met with us and said that my cancer had metastasized far too much,” she says. “He told me he had treated another patient with the exact same cancer who had only lived a few months — and they had fewer tumors than I did. I was holding my son in my arms for that appointment, and I looked at the doctor and said, ‘He’s never going to remember me, and that’s not okay with me.’ ”

“So we walked out of that doctor’s office — and we’ve never seen him again,” she adds.

Thankfully, the family found a sarcoma specialist at Princess Margaret Cancer Centre in Toronto — someone who had treated not just one, but dozens of patients with her specific cancer.

Michelle remembers getting on a virtual call with the specialist. They told her, “Yeah, you could die in five years — likely three — but I want you to just live.”

“I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Just live? What does that even mean?’ ” Michelle recalls. “And she said, ‘Nobody knows. This is an ultra-rare sarcoma cancer. But if you take a step back, you’ve lived with this cancer for at least five years. And look at all this life you’ve lived. Look at these beautiful children you brought into this world with cancer growing in your body and look at you now.’ ”

Motivated by the doctor’s belief in her, Michelle and Ty returned to the Northwest Territories to pack up their home. They planned to move in with Michelle’s mom. Moving was overwhelming and expensive, so they could only bring a few essential belongings.

“My children were 5, 2 and 1 month old, and we were living with my mom because we didn’t have a home here in Prince Edward Island. We were homeless, and my husband had to find a new job. Life was chaotic,” Michelle recalls.

“When people ask what was the hardest part of my cancer journey, it was my children going through their rooms via FaceTime, picking a stuffy and a toy to take back,” she adds. “I was not only navigating a cancer diagnosis with a brand-new preemie and a medically fragile child — we were saying goodbye to our home.”

Soon after, settling into their new routine, Michelle caught a cold — the kind kids bring home from daycare or school.

But for Michelle, it triggered a hospital visit. In just two weeks, her cancer had worsened. She recalls having to call Ty and tell him she had more tumors — and they were bigger. Her doctor prescribed an experimental drug, four small white pills she could take at home.

One night, lying awake in her mother’s bed — now their shared bed — she stared at her baby son through the crib rails. The house was silent, the world still, but inside, she felt herself unraveling.

“I was thinking, ‘Wow, my kids really aren’t going to know me as a mom.’ ” It was especially devastating for Michelle and Ty, as they had fought so hard — enduring fertility treatments, grief and uncertainty — to have their children.

That night, while scrolling through her phone, Michelle stumbled on a video that changed everything: a woman with no hair was smiling and laughing, doing a headstand with her feet spinning in clock-like circles. The caption read: “Stage four cancer thriver.”

“I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, she’s happy. How is she laughing? How is she moving her body like this? This is incredible.’ ”

As she explored the woman’s Instagram feed, Michelle saw genuine joy — real, not fake. “If she can do that, why can’t I?” she thought. “Her joy wasn’t fake. She was just living.”

The next morning, Michelle got out of bed and stepped onto a treadmill. Before this, she couldn’t even run a mile and rarely exercised.

“My husband asked, ‘What are you doing?’ I said, ‘I’m chasing joy. I’m chasing joy.’ Because she taught me that life doesn’t just stop.”

That Instagram post sparked something in Michelle. She was motivated to get stronger and do incredible things with her body. Using the Couch to 10K app, she started by walking, then running for 10 seconds. Gradually, those seconds grew longer, and before long, she became a runner.

When the weather warmed, she took her son with her and realized, “Oh my goodness, this stroller mom thing is actually fun,” she says.

Soon, a company sent Michelle a stroller that wrapped around her waist, freeing her hands. Thinking of her daughters, she learned to push a double stroller with her girls inside while pulling her son behind her. The stroller setup weighed 170 lbs., but she thought, “I can do this.” She ran 5Ks in 30 minutes, pushing and pulling the stroller.

It didn’t stop there. In 2022, Michelle ran her first 10K race, pushing her son in a stroller and finishing in 60 minutes. The next year, a friend invited her to run a half marathon. Michelle was hesitant, saying, “I’m not going to run a half marathon.” But she did — alongside childhood best friends in Niagara Falls.

By 2024, her third year living beyond the original prognosis, Michelle set even bolder goals. She told her husband she wanted to become a triathlete. He was skeptical: “You don’t know how to swim.” She said, “No, I don’t.” Then he said, “You don’t know how to bike.” She replied, “No, I don’t even own a bike, but I want to complete a triathlon.” And he supported her.

She hired a swimming coach and a bike coach. Then, on Aug. 20, 2024 — the very day she was told she would possibly die — Michelle ran out of New Brunswick’s Moncton Hospital and completed a triathlon: a half marathon, followed by 104 km. of biking and then 2 km. of swimming in the ocean, finishing in her children’s arms at their summer house. In total, she covered 126 km.

“I didn’t tell a single person until after it was done because I wanted to do it for me — and to show my kids that Mom can do whatever she sets her mind to,” she says.

Although Michelle began living her life out loud, she worried that if she did die, her kids might not remember her. So she shared her journey openly, creating a space online filled with videos, stories and daily journal entries about their lives.

What started as a private place for her kids soon grew into something bigger, as followers from around the world connected with her authenticity. Michelle never expected this — she just wanted to leave a record for her family.

Her Instagram, @myjourneytojustlive, now has more than 411,000 followers. She is raw and real — no toxic positivity, just honesty. She shows up in her housecoat with a messy bun, no makeup, no filters. It’s a space where her Ty has also become a key part of their story, and together they share their family’s journey.

“It is a choice to sit back and wallow in our pain of knowing that we are dying,” she says. “I always recommend we chase joy. Find the simplest moments, even if it’s 30 seconds in your day, to find the joy.”

“Whether you’re sitting on your couch and you’re talking with your kids, sit in that moment, the simplest moment,” she adds. “Throw some music on, sing, dance, whatever you can do to break the cycle of ‘I’m dying,’ and flip it. I’m living and let’s make the rest of this life the best that we can.”

Michelle’s honesty extends far beyond her athletic achievements.

When she became seriously ill, collapsing in front of her children — Juliet, now 9, Adeline, 6, and Hatton, 3 — she made the decision to be open with them about her cancer. Despite their young ages, they understood: Mommy was sick, the cancer might never go away, but she was going to live as fully and as long as she could — with her mind, body and soul. They also knew about their brother Gabriel, who lives in heaven, and that someday, Mommy and Gabriel would be together.

This openness has helped her children face the realities of illness and loss with both honesty and hope. They know about her medical scans and the results — including the difficult truth that, unfortunately, her cancer has been progressing over the past year.

“Our ongoing joke is that I’m living until I’m 97 — that’s the age we’re hopeful for,” Michelle says. “We try to bring some lightness to it while also acknowledging the reality of living with incurable cancer.”

So far, her cancer growth has remained very small — and could stay that way for 10, 20 or even 30 years. But Michelle also understands that it could turn aggressive at any time. “I might leave this earth in two or three weeks,” she says. “But I’ll tell my children when it’s time to be worried. Right now, we don’t have to worry.”

She adds, “Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone, and my children understand that too. I think that’s an important lesson. In a way, we’ve been given a gift — a heads-up that life might be shorter than we imagined. So we try to really make the most of this one life we’re given. That’s why we chase a lot of joy.”

In their garage, Michelle and her family have what they call the “Weeks to Live” chart — something they check off every week. “It’s still a big chunk,” she says, “but you know what? I’m getting there. And it’s just really cool to think back and realize — that was almost four years ago when I lay in bed thinking my life was over. And look at how much life I’ve lived since then — and how much fun I’ve had doing it.”

When asked if there’s something she’s really looking forward to in the years ahead, Michelle doesn’t hesitate: “It’s always about my kids.”

“Sure, I do these fun fitness things that are great for me, but my biggest dream? It’s to get my son on the school bus,” she adds. “I want to see his face through the window, looking back at me and thinking, ‘Wow, I made it.’ That’s going to happen in a year and two months. When that day comes, I’ll feel like my life is complete.”

Rather than a “bucket list,” which implies dying, Michelle and others in the cancer community have embraced the idea of it being her “living list” — a celebration of life through unexpected, joyful experiences.

“Why not put really fun, meaningful things on there just to remind yourself you’re alive?” she says. “I ate an oyster — something I never thought I’d do — and I’ve done all kinds of random things that don’t cost money, but make my heart beat faster. Life gets so much more fun when you do things that are uncomfortable, spontaneous and filled with wonder.”

She smiles. “My living list has taken us to some pretty cool places, including recently HYROX in New York City. And I can’t wait to see where we go next.”