There is a memory that I have not been able to get out of my mind so I have determined that I must be meant to share it.  When Angie was almost two years old she had her tonsils and adenoids removed and for some unexplained reason she became really sick the next day.  We expected to go home from the hospital on the morning following the procedure and the next thing we knew, the emergency response team was being called to Angie's room.  She was in severe respiratory distress and was immediately moved to the intensive care unit.  She would stay there for almost a month.

While Angie was sick, we were given daily updates on her condition each morning.  Day after day we received bad news and the doctors (who were amazing) continued to switch up her treatment plan to try to bring her back to us.  Angie had severe pneumonia and her lungs had collapsed due to the infection.  During this time, Angie was heavily sedated and her breathing was completely managed by machines.  She was barely there.

One day, I mistakenly received a text message that Toby meant to send to one of our close friends that said, "It does not look good for her future and I don't think Kara knows".  I knew.  But how do you accept that you may not bring your child home from the hospital?  No one wants to admit that.

Eventually, Angie fought back and she began to get better.  Just when we thought the worst was over, she developed a hospital-borne infection in her blood due to a central line that was placed in her groin  to deliver her medications.  She was also physically dependent on pain medications and she had to be slowly weaned to avoid withdrawals before she could go home.  Again, we waited.  During this time, I spent most of my days in a hospital chair holding my girl, after three long weeks when I could only pull my chair up next to her bed and hold her hand.  I had hours upon hours to do nothing but think.

For some reason these long days and my thoughts during that time have remained firmly ingrained in my memory.  As I rocked my baby girl, I tried to imagine her life in the years ahead and I couldn't.  I had no idea if or how she would survive.  We were still dealing with catastrophic seizures that did not respond to medication.  Her neurologist did not believe she was a candidate for surgery and the powers that be at DHS believed she should have a Do Not Resuscitate order developed to prevent life-saving measures when the next major seizure occurred.  They did not believe she could have a quality life.  The days were long and I treasured the moments that I believed could be some of the last I would have with Angie.  I was scared, but I had an overwhelming feeling that her story was not over.

I will never forget those days,  They are so vivid in my mind.  I am convinced that her story was not over but I could not imagine the next chapter.  Now, I know that she has been the recipient of a miracle.  There is no doubt in my mind.

After Angie's lifesaving surgery, we were thrilled by her amazing recovery.  Last summer, when we attended the 2016 Hemispherectomy Conference, we realized that her recovery has just begun.  The research and information that we have now has opened doors for her that are limitless.  Angie's school has taken the information to develop a program for her that completely meets her needs.  Because of the information we have gained from the sponsors, the Brain Recovery Project, we have started new therapies that have literally changed Angie's life.

Tomorrow is Giving Tuesday.  It is a day that is meant to highlight organizations and to raise money for worthy causes.  I ask you, will you give?  Our family, and many like ours, have benefited from the activities of the BRP and there is much more to be done.   Please consider a gift on Angie's behalf, to honor her miracle and to continue the important work that still need to be done to her children with catastrophic epilepsy.  We would be so grateful.