On January 20th, our world began to change in ways we never could have imagined. What started as a simple illness, a positive Flu A test on January 23rd, and a double ear infection quickly turned into something much more serious. Ava, my bright, kind, and unstoppable little girl, was not getting better. Fevers soared to nearly dangerous levels, and her body began to ache in ways no four-year-old should ever have to endure.
Ava, the social butterfly who brings joy to everyone she meets, suddenly wasn’t the same. She limped at school, laid her head down on her desk, and withdrew from the friends she loves so much. Then came the moment that shook me—her teacher handed me a coloring sheet. My meticulous, advanced little artist, who always stayed perfectly within the lines, had scribbled in a way that looked like the work of a toddler.
That was the moment I knew—something was terribly wrong.
On February 11th, her pediatrician, Dr. Moore, ordered blood tests. While initial results looked normal, one test stood out—her strep antibodies were off the charts. We started antibiotics, hoping this was the missing piece. But as the weekend passed, Ava only got worse. By Sunday night, Dr. Moore, who had been personally monitoring her around the clock, made a decision that I now know saved my daughter’s life.
On Monday, February 17th, we rushed to Texas Children’s The Woodlands Hospital ER, where an eight-hour whirlwind of tests began. Blood work, IV fluids, chest X-rays, EKGs, ultrasounds—test after test, each one pulling us deeper into a nightmare we never expected. That night, we were admitted. The next few days were relentless—sedation after sedation, MRI after MRI, CT scans, endless pokes and prods. Then, five days into this journey, in a small corner of the fifth floor, we heard the words that shattered our world:
“Your daughter likely has leukemia.”
But as more results came in, the picture became clearer. Ava’s case was too complex. She needed more specialized care. We were transferred to Texas Children’s Main Campus, where we learned the full truth: Ava has neuroblastoma. A tumor sits on and/or near the upper left side of her spine, with cancer cells likely spreading into her bone marrow and beyond.
And now, I am here, humbly and desperately asking for prayers from around the world.
Please, pray for my daughter. Pray for her body to fight. Pray for her pain to ease. Pray for wisdom and steady hands for her surgeons, oncologists, and hematologists as they work tirelessly to save her life. Pray for the strength of our family as we walk through the unthinkable. Pray that Ava—my strong, brave, and beautiful little girl—makes it through.
Even in the darkness, there is light. Ava has found moments of joy thanks to the incredible Child Life team—art classes with the sweetest therapy dog, Lawton, books filling her room, generous donors showering her with crafts, games, and stuffed animals. Family coming to visit with all the special things that bring a smile to her face. These small moments of happiness mean everything right now. And to Dr. Moore, the woman who saw the signs, who acted swiftly, who saved my daughter’s life—there are no words, only endless gratitude.
