At some point this season, Aileen Guiney will look up at a new videoboard at Cretin-Derham Hall’s soccer field and a wave of emotions will wash over her. Happiness for sure. Likely sadness, too. But mostly pride in seeing the name that will adorn the bottom and all it represents.

“It matters to have things that are named after women,” Guiney said.

Especially women as inspiring as her late wife, Jenny Haigh, a three-sport athlete at CDH, standout in soccer and member of the school’s Hall of Fame who died of cancer in 2018. The school is fundraising for a new scoreboard that will be named in honor of Haigh, Class of 1991.

Guiney is in her first season as girls soccer coach at CDH. She felt no hesitation to apply when the job opened. Perhaps it was fate, being hired by her wife’s alma mater, coaching a sport she loved, and pushing hard for the scoreboard memorial so people who see it will remember not that Haigh died but instead remember the courage and grace she displayed as she was dying.

“It felt like an opportunity to continue her legacy,” Guiney said.

They had envisioned a long life together. Soccer brought them together. Both played in the Big Ten — Haigh at Wisconsin, Guiney at Northwestern — and both coached collegiate soccer.

The Haigh family’s St. Paul roots run deep, so they decided to move to Minnesota to start a new chapter. They mapped out a future with kids, jobs and a cabin up north. Guiney started law school. Haigh went to work in a family business.

Then Haigh started experiencing neck pain. A diagnosis came in January 2009: chordoma, a rare form of cancer.

She underwent two 11-hour surgeries to remove a tumor on her spine. A rod attached to the base of her skull required her to wear a halo. The second surgery left her on a feeding tube, unable to swallow.

The star athlete dug in her heels.

She told doctors that she would teach herself to swallow again. She bought “fancy ice” — smaller cubes — and practiced over and over.

She would accompany Guiney to Life Time and walk on the treadmill with the halo attached to her skull. Inevitably, friends and strangers alike would approach to hear her story.

Guiney has a photo of Haigh in her swimsuit at the beach wearing a backpack that held her feeding tube. And another photo of her riding a jet ski with a neck brace.

“Her mindset was so gritty and determined,” Guiney said. “She was such a good patient because she was such a good athlete.”

They spent the summer of 2009 in Boston. Haigh took a shuttle every morning to receive radiation treatment from a doctor who specializes in chordoma. Guiney, in her second year of law school, spent the days doing research. “I swear I was the first remote law school student,” she said, smiling.

Her cancer went into remission. Haigh proved herself right by eating Thanksgiving dinner on her own that year. They got married, and Guiney finished law school.

Cancer returned after 18 months. Aggressive treatment was no longer an option.

“You come to a fork in the road,” Guiney said.

Haigh chose to live her remaining days as if every second were precious. They bought the cabin. Guiney became pregnant. Haigh already had a son named Billy from a previous marriage. Now they would become a family of four.

Their obstetrician learned of Haigh’s condition and shared a blunt message at one appointment: “She’s like, ‘You’re going to be a single parent,’ ” Guiney recalls.

They understood that reality, which brought them to tears many long nights.

“We were eyes wide open around what really mattered,” Guiney said.

Haigh had weight restrictions with lifting after their daughter, Tallulah, was born. so they had a door cut into the side of her crib that allowed her to crawl out. Haigh taught her how to climb into her car seat on her own. She customized a bike so she could still exercise. She found workarounds for everything, refusing to allow grief to dictate her orbit.

“It’s going to hurt when we lose her,” Guiney said of their mindset. “Let’s make [their time] as awesome as we can. What, we’re not going to have kids to avoid the pain and we’re going to skip over all those years of amazingness? No, that doesn’t make any sense. We were scared. It’s not like we were sailing. We were scared but determined to live as much of our lives together and accomplish as much of our goals together.”

Haigh died in 2018 at age 45, nine years after her initial diagnosis. She had lost function in her hands in the final months, so she had friends record videos and write messages in cards for her children and wife. They open their cards on Christmas, birthdays and other milestone events.

The peace that she exhibited became a gift in their sorrow.

“What a privilege that she was my wife,” Guiney said.

Friends feel that same gratitude.

“Grace would be the right word,” St. Thomas men’s basketball coach Johnny Tauer said. “She was so tough, but she was constantly reaching out to people. She was living life on life’s terms.”

Tauer and Haigh met in first grade and stayed lifelong friends. Tauer is godfather to Tallulah, who is 12 now and babysits Tauer’s 4-year-old daughter, Issa.

It feels like a full-circle moment, he said.

“The simplest way I can describe Jenny is she was one of the kindest but also most competitive people I’ve ever met, which is a rare combination,” Tauer said. “You don’t often see people who are able to blend those. She was truly kind to everyone.”

A new soccer season is underway at Cretin-Derham Hall with a new coach. A new scoreboard will be installed at some point. One of the program’s all-time great players will have her name immortalized on it. Jenny Haigh’s presence and impact extend far beyond that field.