sat . 🕊️ A NIGHT NO PARENT SHOULD EVER HAVE TO FACE — CHANCE’S FIGHT CONTINUES 🕊️

Last night, Chance was transferred from Celebration Health to Arnold Palmer Children’s Hospital.
It was one of the hardest nights we’ve ever endured.

Chance is very sick.

He is fighting Rhinovirus and pneumonia, requiring very high-pressure respiratory support. His tiny body swung from dangerously low temperatures—needing a Bear Hugger to warm him—only to spike a fever of 102.4°F hours later. Doctors initially felt he needed to be intubated immediately.

But through communication with Duke—and a mother’s instinct that said “not yet”—they held off.

He is not out of the woods.
But he is holding.

The Emergency Room at Celebration Health was nothing short of incredible. What unfolded was chaos mixed with compassion—20 to 30 medical professionals moving at once, all focused on saving one small life. It was gut-wrenching to witness. A scene I pray no parent ever has to experience.

In moments like this, something shifts inside me. I become part of the team—answering questions, helping where I can, doing anything possible to help my son. I know I can’t help him if I fall apart. Most of the time, I can manage that shift.

But there was a moment—when the doctor said they needed to intubate immediately—when I felt utterly crushed. Deflated. Defeated. I asked for time. He had just been moved. He needed a moment.

And then… I looked up.

Standing just outside the room was a woman with the calmest presence I’ve ever felt. She almost seemed to glow. She smiled gently at me—and in that moment, peace washed over me. I found my strength again. I returned to my role.

Thank you, Kersten—our Child Life Specialist—for being the calm in the storm, for holding space so I could step away and break, and then come back stronger for my son.

Duke has requested Chance be transferred, and for that I am profoundly grateful. But this isn’t simple—we’re in another state. A helicopter won’t work. He needs more support for the two-hour flight, so they are sending a six-engine plane as soon as a bed becomes available.

There are so many sick children everywhere right now. It breaks my heart.

I was terrified coming to a new hospital—so far from home, over ten hours away—with a team that doesn’t yet know Chance. But Celebration Health and Arnold Palmer have both been extraordinary. Duke has been in constant communication, guiding everything from ventilator settings to medications. They listen to me. They respect me. That means more than I can ever explain.

At 5 a.m., Chance’s primary doctor called me personally for an update.
He truly has the most incredible medical team, and I am beyond thankful.

Thank you to everyone who has prayed, messaged, and checked in. Our tribe means everything. I’m running on just a few hours of sleep over four nights, completely exhausted—but I have to stay alert. This team is still learning him.

Thankfully… there’s a Starbucks.
I swear I heard angels singing when I saw it at 2 a.m.

Many have asked what they can do to help. And my answer is always the same. In moments like this, I survive on coffee and Jesus. If you’re willing to help fuel the coffee that keeps me upright, I am deeply grateful.

Please keep Chance in your prayers.
We’re still fighting. 💙🙏