A Daughters Love for her Mother.

It started late the night of Father’s Day—June 15th, around 11:30 p.m. My husband and I were fast asleep when our dog, Maverick, started barking like crazy. At first, I thought it was fireworks. Bang, bang, bang. I sat up in bed and said out loud, “What the hell was that?”

Then I heard it again—louder this time. Someone was banging on our front door.

I ran to the living room and peeked through the blinds. There was my brother Rich, frantic and yelling, “Open up! Hurry, give me Mom’s house key! I had to call the ambulance. She’s not making any sense on the phone. I called paramedics!”

I handed him my copy of her key, and he sped off. I quickly got dressed, left Jonathan home with Maverick, and drove straight to Mom’s house. By the time I arrived, she was already in the ambulance, being rushed to the Emergency Room at Westside HCA.

Doctors told us her blood sugar had dropped dangerously low, her blood pressure was high, and her speech was slurred. She was admitted and stayed in the hospital until Juneteenth. When they released her around 7 p.m., I felt such a wave of relief. She was finally home.

But that peace was short-lived.

Another Emergency

Thursday night, I went to bed early. At 2:30 a.m., I woke up to a missed call from my stepdad. I silently prayed it was just a pocket dial. I called back to hear:

“Your Mom fell on the floor—we had to call paramedics again.”

What was happening to my mother?

By Friday, June 20th, things escalated fast. Mom was rushed to the ICU. Her heart rate had dropped to 20, and her kidneys had stopped functioning. When I arrived Saturday morning, I walked into a room I will never forget. My mother was sedated, a tube down her throat, completely unresponsive.

I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. The doctors told us she had a temporary pacemaker, and all we could do was wait.

So we waited.

A Weekend of Prayers

Saturday and Sunday were filled with tears. I tried to stay positive. I prayed constantly. I reached out to every Christian I knew

“Please pray for my Mom.”

And then—finally—a miracle. Sunday afternoon, she opened her eyes.

Joy doesn’t even begin to describe what I felt.

She still needed kidney dialysis, and her body was incredibly weak, but she was awake and talking. It felt like I had her back.

Later, a doctor pulled me aside. “Your mom tested positive for Hepatitis A. Likely from contaminated food or water.”   

We were shocked. We still don’t know how or where she contracted it.

Living With the Unknown

Today is June 26th. I received another call during lunch.

The news no one wants to hear: “Your mother will need permanent kidney dialysis for the rest of her life.”

My heart sank. I felt this deep, painful guilt rise in my chest.

Why didn’t I push her harder to go to the doctor?

Questions began swirling:

Can she still have a good quality of life?

Will she stay committed to her treatment?

How can I balance this new responsibility with everything else in my life?

The truth is—we don’t know what the road ahead looks like. But we do know one thing: she’s alive. And that is everything.

I still have my mom.

And for that, I give all the praise, credit, and thankfulness to my Lord and Savior.

Walking By Faith, Not by Sight

Every day going forward will be a new challenge. But I’m learning to take it one day at a time. I’ve felt overwhelmed, exhausted, and scared—but I’ve also felt surrounded by love.

The support from family, friends, and our community has brought me to tears. So many people care about my Mom. That kind of love is rare—and powerful.

I’ve decided to surrender my fears, my anxieties, and my need to control the outcome. I’m handing them over to God. I trust Him. I trust that He will walk with me through this storm and guide our family through the unknown.

Because even in the darkness, I believe in light.

Even in heartbreak, I believe in healing.

Even in chaos, I believe in Christ.

1 Peter 5:7

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.