January 19th 2023

Nobody could have prepared us for January 19th, 2023.

One year ago, Travis and I brought William to Phoenix Children’s Hospital to meet with a Neurosurgeon. We’d been trying to see her for weeks, but our pediatrician was less than helpful. We knew something was wrong with our baby, yet we clung to the hope that it was something minor. We thought maybe his skull bones had fused prematurely, and if caught before three months of age, it could be a straightforward surgery. However, upon the sight of William, the Neurosurgeon called for an immediate CT-Scan. We returned that day for the scan, and by that evening, we received the call.

I’ll never forget that moment—my heart raced as I answered the phone. The Neurosurgeon’s words permeated every corner of my thoughts, uttering, “Well, your son’s skull bones are not fused, but unfortunately.”

Unfortunately. The word pierced my heart, draining the air from the room. I clutched the counter, terror etched on my face, but Travis steadied me.

“Unfortunately, your son’s brain is not healthy.”

Her words continued, slipping away like fog by the afternoon. Someone guided me to a chair; mindlessly, I sat as the neurosurgeon shared a story about a brilliant high school student who was so smart they decided to do an MRI, but when they did, they found only part of a brain. It was her attempt to encourage me, which I greatly appreciated.

Then her voice faded. My mother-in-law handed me a notepad. “Write down what she said before it’s gone.” The following it what I wrote:

“Brain does not look like it should, It’s small

Doesn’t look like its developing normally

It Doesn’t look healthy

MRI needs to be done

Not a sedated one for now.

God will see us through

He gently leads those with young

God can do great things

Just wait and see what He does with William. I can’t wait to see God use my precious son and his testimony.

This life is fleeting, but God and His work is eternal.

One day at a time.”

The above is what I wrote. I didn’t know much that day about William’s conditions and what an unhealthy brain meant, but I did know my Father, and that was enough. I can honestly say that He is seeing us through. We’re not through yet, and we won’t be until we see His heavenly face. Yet, each day He continues to carve a path, and when the rain pours harder than the day before, we say...

"one day at a time.”