"One Breath at a Time: Kylie’s Fight for Healing".2302
Kylie’s Battle: A Mother’s Hope in the Quiet Hours of the ICU 🩷
For the most part, Kylie had a good weekend.
Those are the kinds of words that hold so much weight when your child is fighting for her life — a “good weekend” doesn’t mean playgrounds and laughter anymore.
It means no emergencies.
It means fewer tears.
It means one small moment when the monitors stay steady, the numbers stay strong, and her fragile little body can rest.
If you follow my personal page, you might have seen the updates over the weekend.
Kylie started plasma treatment — a therapy that filters out every antibody in her blood, both good and bad, in hopes of resetting her immune system.
It’s an exhausting, invasive process, and she completed two rounds of it over the weekend.
Each session takes hours, with tubes running from her tiny arm into a machine that hums beside her hospital bed.
She doesn’t complain.
She just lies there, her eyes heavy, her fingers gripping the edge of her blanket as if she’s reminding herself that she’s still here — still fighting.
Along with the plasma treatment, Kylie received a medication commonly used in chemotherapy.
It’s powerful, brutal, and it wipes out any antibodies left in her system.
Her doctors warned it would be hard on her body — and they were right.
The side effects came swiftly: nausea, fatigue, and pain she couldn’t quite describe.
At one point, she just broke down and cried — long, painful sobs that no parent ever wants to hear. 💔
I sat beside her, helpless, wishing I could take every ache, every tear, every ounce of suffering away.
I whispered, “Just a little longer, baby. Just a little longer. You’re so brave.”
Today, Kylie is taking a break from treatment.
Her little body needs time to recover.
Even the strongest warriors need rest between battles.
Yesterday’s X-ray, though, brought news that shook us.
Her pneumothorax — the collapsed lung — had worsened. 💔
I could see it in the doctor’s face before he even said the words.
I’ve learned to read expressions here — the subtle tightening of the lips, the hesitation before a sentence begins.
It’s the language of parents who live in hospitals, the silent vocabulary of fear and hope colliding in the same heartbeat.
They’re doing another X-ray this morning.
We’re praying with everything we have that it shows improvement.
Because once her lung heals, they can remove the chest tube.
And once the tube is gone, she can come off the ventilator.
And then — only then — I’ll be able to hold her again.
It’s been weeks since I’ve held my little girl in my arms.
I can touch her hand, stroke her hair, whisper to her — but I can’t wrap her in my arms.
Not yet.
It’s too painful for her.
So I sit beside her bed, praying quietly, my hands folded in my lap, imagining that someday soon, I’ll get to pull her close again. 🙏🏼
The nurses say she’s strong.
They call her a fighter.
But I already knew that.
From the moment she was born, Kylie has had this light about her — a spark that refuses to fade no matter how dark the room gets.
Even on her hardest days, she tries to smile.
Sometimes she can’t speak, but her eyes do the talking.
They say, I’m still here, Mom. Don’t give up on me.
Today is McKenzie’s birthday — Kylie's big sister.
We’re trying to make the best of it, even though our hearts are torn in two places.
McKenzie has been so patient, so brave.
She understands more than a child her age should.
She knows her sister is sick, that Mommy and Daddy spend most days at the hospital, that birthdays don’t look the same anymore.
Still, she smiled this morning when I told her, “We’ll celebrate you today, sweetheart. Even from here.”
She nodded and whispered, “For Kylie too.” 🩷
It’s moments like that — small, quiet acts of love — that remind me why we keep fighting.
Why we keep showing up, even when our hearts are breaking.
Because love doesn’t stop for sickness.
It doesn’t crumble under the weight of exhaustion or fear.
It stays.
It endures.
It holds us together when everything else feels like it’s falling apart.
As I write this, Kylie is sleeping.
Her chest rises and falls in slow, shallow breaths, each one a miracle.
The machines beep softly around her — the rhythm of our days now.
I watch the monitor the way other mothers might watch a playground or a recital, my eyes trained on every flicker, every number, every sign that she’s still fighting.
Outside her window, the morning sun is breaking through the clouds, and I can’t help but hope that maybe — just maybe — it’s a sign.
A sign that the X-ray will look better today.
That her lung will begin to heal.
That soon I’ll get to hold my baby girl again.
That the light we’ve been chasing for so long will finally break through the storm.
Please keep praying for Kylie.
Pray for her healing, for her comfort, for her strength.
Pray that this next X-ray brings good news.
And pray that one day soon, I’ll be able to wrap her in my arms without tubes, without pain — just a mother holding her daughter the way it’s meant to be.
We love you all. 🩷
Thank you for every prayer, every message, every heart that has lifted us through these long, heavy days.
You remind us that we’re not alone — and that love, even in the hardest battles, always finds a way to shine through. 🌸
Carson the Superhero: A 5-Year-Old Battling Leukemia with Courage.928
Meet Carson, a bright and courageous 5-year-old whose strength shines through even in the toughest of times. While many children his age spend their days running through playgrounds or racing toy cars across the living room floor, Carson is facing a challenge far greater than most adults ever encounter: he is bravely battling leukemia.
Leukemia is a word no family ever wants to hear, especially when it’s tied to someone so young. Yet Carson has approached his journey with a resilience that amazes everyone around him. Through doctor visits, treatments, and long hospital days, he continues to show the heart of a fighter — and the spirit of a child who still loves to laugh, play, and dream.
Superheroes are a big part of Carson’s world. He loves them all, from the classics to the newest characters, because to him, each one represents strength, bravery, and the power to overcome obstacles. He often imagines himself alongside them, wearing a cape, ready to face whatever challenges come his way. In truth, Carson doesn’t just look up to superheroes — he embodies what it means to be one. His courage, his smile, and his determination make him a hero in the eyes of his family, friends, and everyone who learns his story.
Cars are another passion of his. Red and blue, his favorite colors, cover his toy collection, from shiny race cars to sturdy trucks. Playing with cars brings him joy on hard days, allowing him to imagine races filled with speed and excitement, where he always crosses the finish line first. These simple moments of play remind his loved ones that, despite the difficult treatments, Carson is still very much a little boy filled with curiosity and energy.
Board games are another source of happiness. Carson enjoys the laughter and fun they bring, especially when played with family. Rolling dice, moving pieces, and celebrating small victories around the game board give him a sense of normalcy and togetherness — precious moments that bring light into days that sometimes feel heavy.
But Carson’s journey is not one he walks alone. His family, friends, and community have surrounded him with unwavering love and support. Messages of encouragement pour in from near and far, each one carrying the same reminder: he is not alone, and he is stronger than this disease. His story has touched many hearts, uniting people in the common goal of cheering for his victory.
To watch Carson fight with such bravery is to be reminded of the resilience of children. He teaches everyone around him that courage isn’t about never being afraid — it’s about facing fear with hope, determination, and love. His laughter during a board game, his excitement over superheroes, and his fascination with cars all serve as reminders that childhood joy can shine even in the darkest moments.
So let’s keep sending Carson all the love, strength, and encouragement we can. Let’s remind him every day that he is surrounded by an entire team cheering for him, believing in him, and standing with him.
Carson, you are our superhero. Keep fighting, keep smiling, and keep racing toward brighter days.
💛 We believe in you, brave Carson — never ever give up! 💛
