12/26/2025
There has been a trend on social media lately to complain.
To hide behind a screen and find fault in places, people, and things.
My mother always reminded me, the more you complain, the more you will find to complain about.
And it is true. You can see it clearly in how unhappy someone becomes.
We truly do control so much. How we approach today, how tomorrow unfolds, and how we affect the people we interact with. I am absolutely at fault at times too. I fail at this daily.
But my goal is to shine a little more positivity into a very negative world through my blogs, through my words, and sometimes through gently chiding myself as a reminder to do better.
And today, my positive impact is focused once again on the incredible team in the PICU and PIMCU at CHOG.
This team has saved the lives of my children again and again.
Cassie was able to live two full years because of them.
Between CHOA and CHOG, they saved Amir’s life.
They saved Jojo’s life.
They saved Lizzie’s life countless times.
They saved Makayla’s life.
And they wrapped their arms around me when I cried through the loss of two of my children.
They have stood beside me through the highest highs and the lowest lows.
Today, their praise is not just for my children and me but for Jaime.
One practitioner once told me Jaime’s nickname was little blueberry.
Why? Because she was literally a tiny blue baby.
Her goal oxygen saturation was 36 percent.
For those who are not medical, normal is in the high nineties to one hundred percent.
I remember the first time I met Jaime. She hovered in the low eighties, and the team said, oh no, that is good. Trust us.
I understand that now.
This hospital has poured everything into this child for 738 days. Her entire two years of life.
They did not just save her through countless heart surgeries, esophageal surgeries, and more.
They adopted her as their own.
Jaime did not have a family to fight for her or advocate for her the way she desperately needed. We tried to be there as much as possible over the past year and a half, but the system blocked us at every turn.
So the hospital stepped up.
They advocated fiercely.
They spoiled her rotten.
It took multiple carloads to bring home the things the staff bought for her.
Before we officially stepped in these last few months, the hospital staff paid for her expensive diapers and water wipes. They bought her adorable outfits. They held her. Loved her. Did everything they could in an impossible situation.
Jaime does not just have me as her mama.
She has many, many mommas in the PICU.
As her now legal parents, we want to say thank you.
Thank you for entrusting Jaime to us.
Thank you for advocating so hard to ensure she came to a home skilled to care for her.
Thank you for loving her like your own.
And a deeply personal thank you to CHOG. Thank you for the nights you sat with my children when I could not be there. Thank you for the hands that worked tirelessly to save their lives, the hearts that loved them fiercely, and the compassion you showed me as a grieving mother. You did not just treat my children. You carried them, you protected them, and you became family to us.
We also want to extend our deepest gratitude to Jaime’s attorney and her CASA team. Thank you for fighting relentlessly for her best interests, for refusing to give up when the road was long and complicated, and for being her voice when she could not speak for herself. Your dedication and perseverance helped change the course of her life, and we will always be grateful.
And as her mommy, I promise I will do everything in my power to step into the very big shoes you filled for her and love her fiercely, fully, and forever.
