Sunday, August 24

What a morning! 

This did not feel like a Sunday.

Ever since yesterday afternoon, Avry had been having small nosebleeds. At 1 AM, she bled a little more, but it seemed to stop. At 6 AM, I woke up to blood streaming down her face.

I held pressure for half an hour. The nurse tried several times to pinch it off, but nothing worked. Her platelets were low—ordered at 4:30—but by 6:30 the nurse told us there was no ETA. There were no platelets with her type in the hospital. They would have to go elsewhere to get them.

Panic set in. We went through Kleenex, gauze, repacked her nose, and still her bed was soaked. By the two-hour mark, I was desperate. She was still bleeding, spitting up blood. My mind raced: We’re in a hospital—how are there no blood products? Can we donate ourselves? Can we drive to get them? Who do we yell at? How much blood has she already lost?

She was getting sleepy, lying down, her blood pressure decreasing—but I was not relaxed. Terrified, I kept pressure on her nose, going through roll after roll of gauze, praying for platelets to arrive.

And here’s the terrifying truth: even if they had offered her “universal platelets,” the risk of a severe reaction after her bone marrow/stem cell transplant was too great. She was dependent on her specific type of platelets. As her mother, I couldn’t stop thinking: What if there aren’t enough? What if we can’t get the bleeding stopped?

Shift change came. When Syd walked into the room, I asked, “Did you bring the platelets?” She stammered, “No…” “Then we don’t need you here. I got this. Don’t come back until you find them.”

She came back within half an hour—this time with the platelets in hand. Finally.

Syd explained that platelets only have a five-day shelf life, and shortages like this are common. But what she said next broke me: at that very moment, another child in the operating room was bleeding out. The blood bank had to race across town multiple times to bring in emergency blood products to save that child’s life. Naturally, that child received priority, and thankfully, Avry received what she needed afterward. My heart sank for that mother outside the OR. I just prayed she didn’t know what was happening.

Once the platelets were given, we kept her nose packed, and within 30 minutes the bleeding stopped. Avry whispered to me, “Mom, this is such a rough night. Are you sure there’s no more blood?” She had been absolutely terrified watching it pour without stopping. Her little face is still stained.

That was scary for everyone—and out of the nurses’ control. We had notified everyone possible. There was nothing else to do but wait.

Afterwards, she was completely exhausted. We gave her a sponge bath, changed her linens, and put her in her favorite new pink jammies that a kind friend had just sent.

💔 This experience opened our eyes to how fragile the blood supply really is and why donations are so critical. Hospitals in our area are facing severe shortages, and lives depend on generous donors who take an hour to roll up their sleeves.

If this story has touched you in any way, I urge you—please donate blood. It’s a small sacrifice compared to the life it can save. Imagine your child bleeding out and being told there is no blood available. That helplessness is unbearable.

I’ve already reached out to the larger community and am working to organize a local blood drive. We need you to help us make this happen. Thank you to every single person who donates regularly—you are the reason children like mine survive nights like this.

We door dashed tacos and Cinnabon for the skeleton crew here on the Oncology floor today. 

Living in the hospital means you come to know the staff in a way most people never do. They’ve seen us as parents at our lowest—powerless, scared, desperate. They’ve watched us wrestle with emotions we never imagined, and yet, they don’t turn away. Instead, they choose to see us as what we are: fierce, relentless parents fighting with everything we have for our child’s life.They don’t judge us (though we joke they probably do 😉). They stand beside us, supporting us in ways big and small—even in the moments when frustration and helplessness make us want to scream. Their steady hands and compassionate hearts remind us that we are not alone in this fight. They are the true heroes. Today, we honor each doctor, nurse, and caregiver for the special place they hold in our lives. What began 24 weeks ago as complete strangers has become so much more. These men and women have turned into nurturers, encouragers, and some of our very favorite humans. We are profoundly grateful to walk this journey with them on our team. #neuroblastomawarrior #miraclesforavryjo #stage4strong #holdingontogether #ourdreamteam

I found out who is the organization Is that supplies blood products here at Dell. I and actively working to set up a blood drive in honor of Avry Jo—and for the many other little warriors here at Dell.

I’ve even reached out to our local radio station to blast the urgent need for blood donors and the shortage of blood. 

Because this is what mothers do. We don’t sit back with folded hands and hope and pray for the best. We put our boots on. We roll up our sleeves. We fight—not just for our child’s survival, but for every single life depending on that next bag of blood or platelets.

💉 This is your chance to step into the fight with us. Donate blood. Be the reason a child gets another tomorrow.