It doesn’t seem real.

Any of this. It feels like I’m playing role, that there is a script. Surely they’ll say “That’s a wrap!” soon, right? This isn’t really happening…is it?

I can think these thoughts all I want, but nothing changes that fact that it is real. This is happening. This is not fiction.

I’ve never actually suffered from whiplash, but right now, in this moment, that’s how I would describe the way my body feels. After a whirlwind 48 hours, my body seems to be screaming at me, acting out like a toddler midway through a temper tantrum.

But then I pause. I am slapped with the reality that my daughter currently lies in a hospital bed with only a high-tech piece of Saran Wrap covering her beating heart. Her chest cracked. Tubes coming out of almost every orifice of her body. Sedated heavily. A machine breathing for her. I watch each beat of her heart and I’m brought to my knees.

We are simply broken for our daughter. Life isn’t supposed to be like this…but this is her life and she doesn’t know any different.

Words feel silly. They can’t seem to fully or accurately describe emotions and feelings. The truth is, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. She doesn’t need a diaper change or a pacifier. She doesn’t need consoling and cannot be held. There are so many things she needs that Chris and I simply cannot provide.

I wish I could transcribe each and every word the massive and incredible team of doctors and nurses have explained to us about our Audrey bunny. I wish I understood it all well enough to educate each of you fully. I cannot. And really, all of the details don’t matter anyway.


She’s alive.

Somehow, someway…whether you choose to chalk it up to medicine, God or a combination of the two…her heart beats. And while so much is still unknown, I have to remind myself of something I have said many times…keep the faith.

In several broken moments I felt angry. I felt mad. Aching for my baby girl and wondering too many things. Not feeling worried…just completely at a loss, out of control. And that’s okay. Because I believe in a God that has His hands all over this. He is literally carrying Audrey through this…and us. Along with unbelievable family, friends and warriors, we will, as Chris optimistically stated, “make it through to the other side.”

As it did on the day she was born, the waiting area was overflowing as we did just that…waited. The private room they provided was no match for this group…people spilled into the hallway, stood for hours and no one made a single complaint. Instead, these incredible people smiled, shared Audrey moments, prayed, cried with me, asked about Cooper, brought food, traveled from near and far…these people have literally walked this journey with us from the beginning. Those who just couldn’t quite make it to the actual hospital were right there with us each step of the way. As close as they could be without physically being there. For this we are forever grateful.

My how blessed we feel by the outpouring of love and support. Thank you.

Thank you for your messages, texts, emails, calls and so much more. They don’t go unread or unappreciated.

I wish I had more words to share. A better, more eloquent series of sentences that would leave me feeling better to have it all written out. At some point we will share photos, now just isn’t the right time. Not yet. Thank you for your understanding. Instead, picture Audrey with her gummy grin, smiling and stealing our hearts. Pray that she will move. As the paralytic wears off, they are anxiously awaiting movement of her hands or feet. Pray she has no more seizures. Pray she will breathe again on her own. Pray for urine output. Pray the repair holds…that it does it’s job well. Pray for the doctors and nurses to know exactly what she needs, the moment she needs it. Pray that Audrey will continue being clear in her needs. And so many other big prayers she needs. I know you have…I know you are…I know you will.

As we can, updates will be posted. Simply put, thank you. Our hearts are full of so much, particularly gratitude.

Until next time, love and hugs dear warriors,

20140625-073632-27392510.jpgPictured here: A few of the beautiful, gold-hearted angels in the waiting room. So many not pictured. And so many there fully in spirit.


14 thoughts on “Fiction


  2. Thank you for sharing Audrey’s journey with us. All at once I am broken, heartsick, physically hurting and yet… I know God is moving. I know God is in control and I can only imagine how many lives will be changed through Audrey. Her beautiful life blesses me as I see your faith shine through the obvious pain you are experiencing. I see your loving family and friends turning to God for comfort and strength and am reminded that buying our physical world there is an almighty God that intimately loves us and cares about our struggles.

    Rachel, Chris, Cooper and Audrey it is so hard to see you hurt. I pray beyond anything this world can ever understand that you witness miracles, that you are strengthened, and that God continues to be glorified through you.

    Much love and hugs…

  3. I know you have no clue who I am, but a friend of mine shared your blog with her fb friends last night. I went back and read every blog. I was a high risk pregnancy with both oft children. I saw Dr. Stanley when he was at OU and then again after he moved to mercy. He is an amazing doctor and after reading your blog I realize again just how blessed I was to have two healthy babies. My heart breaks for you, your husband, son and family. Know you have added another prayer warrior for your beautiful baby girl! Prayers not only for her, but for you, Chris, Cooper, the rest of your family, friends and the doctors and nurses who are caring for your sweet girl!

  4. Yes, you will make it to the other side! I love your continual hope in God and how you lean on Him for strength. It breaks my heart to see Audrey like this but I know her life has a purpose that is already bringing much glory to God. We cannot to rejoice with you when her little body is whole again.

  5. Rachel & Chris, It’s an honor to pray for your family. Prayers for endurance, healing, faith, comfort and peace. Prayers for the family and friends that surround you on a minute by minute basis. Prayers for the medical team treating Audrey. The Rev. Margaret B. Gunness wrote: The power of prayer is the constant renewal of perspective. Prayer opens our eyes. It extends our horizons. It sheds light into the darkness of our fears and our sorrows, our hopes and joys, our shame and our pride. It gives us new ways of seeing life and relationships, of understanding work and the cost of growing. The power of prayer is real and palpable. You can feel it and know it and depend on it. It comes to us as a gift, but we need to do our part as well. God calls us to pray and through our prayer, God empowers us and gives us strength.

    Humbly joining so many others in prayer.
    With love,

  6. Rachel, I may not know you, and you do not know me, but we share many friends in common. I was linked to your family’s story through a mutual friend. I have read every post and have wept, been joyful, and prayed for you while reading each and every post. I too am a NICU mom and have been there. I hope that you and your precious family
    can sense the prayers and the presence of God around you and your family. Audrey Claire is a blessed child to be surrounded by such love and blessings. May you find rest, faith, and blessings for you and your family’s journey and life with Audrey. May our prayers provide you with comfort and love, and I will continue to think and pray for you each and every day. May God provide you with peace that passeth understanding. May you, Chris, Cooper, and Audrey be enveloped in love, prayer, and faith. We are all rooting for you and your sweet family. You all are loved. God bless each and every one of you. I will continue to pray. May God bless and keep you.

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