An Expert with the Call Button

My journey into parenthood began with a crash course in medical terminology, hospital navigation, and learning how to survive circumstances that gave me no choice but to lean on a strength that was not my own — a strength that could only come through deep faith and trust in God.

And through every single moment, He was with me.

The past seven and a half years have been filled with fears, worries, unknowns, miracles, answered prayers, and more growth than I ever could have imagined. Over time, I have slowly become better at navigating life as it comes. While I have thankfully left behind my old “the sky is falling” mentality, learned how to confidently manage the medical complexities of my child, and continually worked to place my trust in God, I am still human.

I still have fears and worries that creep in unexpectedly — sometimes all at once and sometimes slowly, like a bad pair of panties. If you know, you know.

Some fears are the typical parenting worries we all carry. Others seem to come flying completely out of left field, catching me off guard before I even realize they were quietly lingering beneath the surface.

My son is now a thriving, active, social seven-and-a-half-year-old boy who keeps us on our toes in the very best ways. Looking at him today, most people would never fully realize the battles he fought so courageously at the very beginning of his life or the medical hurdles he has overcome along the way.

And honestly, that in itself feels like such a gift.

Throughout his life, we have been unbelievably blessed to witness positive outcomes, answered prayers, and God’s healing hands at work through his CDH journey and the bumps in the road we encountered along the way. While we are thankfully no longer living in the thick of surgeries and constant medical unknowns, I think part of being a medical mama is realizing that certain fears never completely disappear — they simply evolve over time.

At this stage in life, with him growing older, becoming more independent, and developing deeper friendships and interests, my worries have shifted.

It is no longer just about procedures, appointments, or medical outcomes.

Now, sometimes the fear creeps in surrounding how his past experiences may someday shape the way others perceive him — or worse, the way he may perceive himself.

I don’t know about you, but parenting in today’s world often feels overwhelmingly competitive. It starts young — milestones as babies, toddlers, preschoolers — and before you know it, comparison quietly transforms into academics, athletics, accomplishments, and performance.

I know my child will have his own unique gifts and talents in this life, and my greatest hope is that his medical history never becomes something that makes him feel different, limited, or less than in the eyes of others.

As a parent, you never want your child to feel labeled.

You never want them to carry the weight of being viewed through the lens of what they have been through rather than who they truly are.

My fear — irrational or not — has never been that my son is weak.

Because if anything, his story has shown me the exact opposite.

From the very beginning, he has been incredibly strong, resilient, determined, and full of fight. Even as a tiny infant, he showed every single one of us what true strength looks like. His birth story remains one of the clearest reminders in my life of God’s miracles unfolding right before our eyes.

I never want his diagnosis to become his identity.

Because despite receiving a CDH diagnosis before birth, it never defined him then, and it does not define him now.

My son is strong and capable, with the strength of God behind him.

He has never allowed his past to slow him down, and watching him grow into exactly who God created him to be has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

My prayer as his mother is that God continues to surround him with compassionate friends, encouraging mentors, coaches, teachers, and people who see him not through the lens of his medical history, but through the lens of his heart.

A child full of strength.

Full of resilience.

Full of purpose.

And never, ever less than because of the battles he has already overcome.