LDL. Will Roberts’ Mom Shares Raw, Honest Update: “I Tried Everything… Until It Started Hurting Him More”

For months, thousands of people have followed the journey of Will Roberts—a 14-year-old boy fighting stage 4 bone cancer. Along the way, his mother’s updates became more than medical notes. They became a gathering place: for prayers, for survivor stories, for strangers turning into a community.

This week, Will’s mom shared one of her most transparent messages yet—an emotional reflection on what hope can look like when your child is the one in pain.

She began with gratitude.

“I am so incredibly thankful for every single person who has shared cancer survival stories—especially those involving holistic approaches,” she wrote, emphasizing that no one should ever feel “out of line” for offering something they believe could help. She said she has read the testimonies, studied the research people sent, and held onto every story that hinted at a miracle—because when you’re watching your child suffer, hope becomes something you chase with your whole body.

But then her message took a turn—one that many parents quietly understand, and few have the courage to say out loud.

She admitted that from the earliest days of Will’s diagnosis, she tried “everything,” reaching far beyond traditional medicine in her desperation to help him. She listed remedies and alternative approaches people recommended, explaining that she wasn’t mocking anyone’s intentions—she truly believed that somewhere, in some corner, there might be the key that would save her son.

And for a long time, she did what countless parents do behind closed doors: she kept adding more.

Not because she didn’t trust doctors.
Not because she rejected medicine.
But because she couldn’t bear the thought of not doing everything possible.

“I’ve thrown everything at Will’s cancer besides the kitchen sink,” she said—words that carried the weight of sleepless nights, frantic research, and the kind of fear that doesn’t turn off when the lights go out.

Then she shared the hardest realization of all.

Somewhere along the way, the endless search for “one more thing” started making Will’s life heavier.

Many of the remedies didn’t taste good. Some were unpleasant. Some required constant effort on top of what he was already enduring—appointments, prescriptions, treatments, recovery, pain, exhaustion. Will is 14. He’s still a kid. And she explained that he hated it… but he still did it anyway.

Sometimes, she wrote, he did it to make her feel better.

That detail stopped many readers in their tracks—because it revealed a quiet, heartbreaking dynamic that often exists in childhood illness: the child trying to protect the parent, even while fighting for their own life.

She described moments where she would urge him to take something else, and he would groan, ache, resist—not out of rebellion, but because he was already carrying too much. And she admitted that what began as hope slowly turned into something that felt miserable for him.

Her words weren’t angry. They were mournful. Honest.

At one point, she even shared a dark joke she once made to Will early in the journey—saying that if anyone ever came to her with a “study” claiming something truly awful could cure cancer, she’d probably have him try it. She clarified she didn’t mean it literally—but the message behind it was painfully clear: she was willing to go as far as a mother can go.

That’s what cancer does to families.

It doesn’t just attack the body. It rearranges the mind. It turns parents into researchers, prayer warriors, and desperate negotiators with the universe—begging for a loophole.

But in her newest post, Will’s mom said she wanted to be transparent about where they are now.

“I am not against traditional medicine,” she wrote.
“I am not against holistic medicine.”
“I am not above trying anything.”

What she is, she said, is someone who has seen what stage 4 sarcoma can do—how brutal it can be, how relentless, how unfair.

“And more often than not,” she added, “it cannot be beaten without a miracle.”

It was a statement rooted in exhaustion and faith—one that didn’t claim certainty, didn’t promise outcomes, and didn’t pretend bravery is always enough. It simply acknowledged the reality many families face when the fight stretches longer than the human spirit feels capable of holding.

Her update also carried an important, unspoken message: that love and hope can sometimes need boundaries—not because hope is wrong, but because the person you’re fighting for is still living inside the fight.

In the comments, supporters responded with compassion—thanking her for her honesty, promising continued prayers, and reminding her that a mother’s “doing everything” is not something to be ashamed of. Many said they saw themselves in her words: the spiraling fear, the constant research, the impulse to chase one more possibility just to quiet the terror for a moment.

At its core, her post wasn’t an argument about approaches. It was a mother pulling back the curtain on what it feels like to stand at the edge of helplessness—and still try.

She ended where she began: gratitude. Not for advice alone, but for the hearts behind it. For the people who cared enough to send hope. For the community that stayed.

And for a family still walking through the unknown, that may be one of the most powerful medicines of all—being seen, being held up, and not being left alone in the dark.

If you’d like to support Will and his family, consider leaving a prayer or a message of encouragement. Sometimes, love is the only thing that reaches all the way into a battle like this.