Tough Like Tuff, 1740 23rd Ave, Seattle, WA (2026)

03/10/2026

We got up at 3:30am to head to SCH for Tuffs cardiology and neurology check ups. Less than a month until his final (hopefully) surgery. Gonna be a long day for us but we are excited to see our people. 🤘🏻💪🏻💙

03/09/2026

Six months ago today, our sweet Tuff came into this world. After everything we’ve been through, we are just so incredibly grateful to be here. Every single day with him is a gift. A true testimony of Gods will.

Tuff is such a ham. He absolutely loves attention, from anyone and everyone, which is so different from my other babies. He has the biggest personality already and keeps us all smiling.

He’s also started exploring some solid foods. His first was a big grass fed steak bone, and he cannot get enough of it. A little carnivore already.

Physically, he continues to amaze us. He’s exceeding milestones and rolling from one side of the room to the other like he has somewhere very important to be. Most of the time, that somewhere is straight to me. No matter where I am, he’ll do just about anything to get there. Including screaming his head off.

God continues to bless us and carry us through. Six months with this little boy has been a reminder of how precious life truly is.

We are so thankful for every moment with you, Tuff. 💙

02/14/2026

It’s been quiet over here, not because there hasn’t been anything to say, but because I’ve been busy… and if I’m honest, a little avoidant.

Our last hospital stay had some bumps. A few moments that shook me more than I expected. It left its mark. Shocking considering all that we have been through, maybe it’s finally caught up to me. The good news is, we made it out the other side. Whole, held & carried.

And now somehow it’s been a month later.

Since we got home, Tuff has been doing so good.

Like, blow-me-away kind of good.

He’s hitting milestones early. He is SO strong. So determined. Completely unbothered by everything he’s already overcome. He’s adjusted to me being back at work. He lets other people console him now, which is both humbling and freeing. And he sure loves his daddy. Last night in bed he was practically begging for Chris’s attention over mine. Felt a little rude… but also such a relief and blessing.

His next surgery, and hopeful his last, is April 7. Right in the middle of our kids’ spring break. This year has revolved around hospitals, procedures, recovery, and just surviving until the next appointment. I’m holding onto hope that next year will be the year we get to make everything bigger and better. More trips. More memories. Less medical.

Despite all the sickness that’s moved through our house lately, I keep thanking God that it happened here, in our home, and not in a hospital room.

We are so very thankful. Beyond thankful. God is so good. I praise him every single day.

And as always,

Tough like Tuff.

“When I am afraid, i put my trust in You.” — Psalm 56:3

01/24/2026

It’s been a wild couple of days. For now, we just wanted to share a short update, we’re home and recovering. We love you all, and your prayers have been deeply felt. Thank God.

As always,

Tough like Tuff 💙💪🏻

01/20/2026

Our Tuff boy did it again. He went into surgery and came out the same way he seems to do everything in this life. Strong, steady, and unscathed. No adverse events. No setbacks. Just another reminder of how tough this little warrior truly is.

It was a long, heavy day for Chris and me. The kind that feels like you’re trudging through mud. Like most parents before a surgery, sleep wasn’t really an option the night before. Add in the fact that we’ve both come down with some sort of cold or flu (timing, right!?) and a baby who had to fast… we maybe slept three minutes total.

This surgery felt different. It was almost dreadful anticipating today, yet knowing it’s life or death without it. We have watched our baby grow into this happy little boy, meeting milestones, flashing his big grin, while knowing that the risks of this procedure could take it all away in a second. It shakes us to our core in a way that’s hard to put into words. This is the part of parenthood no one prepares you for, loving something so deeply while standing face to face with something you are powerless over. Something that steals your breath away.

And yet… God is still good. Even here. Even in the hardest moments. Even when our hands are shaking and our hearts feel fragile. He carried Tuff through again. His incredible surgery team let us know they successfully closed two very large feeders and are expecting great outcomes. As of now, they anticipate one more surgery toward the end of March or beginning of April, with the hope that it will be the last one.

Cured, if you will.

We are overwhelmed in the best way. The prayers, messages, and support we’ve received today, please know we feel every bit of it and hold it tightly. We are endlessly grateful.

For now, Tuff is resting in the ICU where he’ll be closely monitored for the next day or two…maybe three. His team chose to keep his breathing tube in until around 6pm because it’s critical that he stays flat and still post-op. And if you know Tuff, you know he doesn’t do “still.” Keeping him sleeping is the safest choice, even though every second feels long when you’re waiting to see your baby’s eyes open again.

We’re praying for a smooth recovery and anticipating when we can go back home to our loud, messy, beautiful chaos. I cannot wait to say hello to my baby when he wakes up. To see that big, open mouthed grin that reminds me why we fight so hard.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
— Joshua 1:9

And as always…

Tough like Tuff. 💙💪🏻

u

01/16/2026

With Tuff’s upcoming surgery we have been receiving a lot questions related to his condition.

Vein of Galen Malformation (VOGM) is a rare and life threatening congenital brain condition that forms during the 1st trimester of pregnancy. It happens when abnormal arteries connect directly to a large vein deep in the brain, bypassing the normal capillary system.

This causes blood to rush through the brain at dangerously high speeds, placing extreme strain on a baby’s heart and brain. Without treatment, VOGM is often fatal.

The abnormal blood flow can lead to severe heart failure, hydrocephalus (fluid on the brain), seizures, developmental delays, and Stroke or brain injury.

Because of how rare and complex this condition is, treatment requires highly specialized neuro-interventional care. There is no medication that fixes VOGM, it must be treated with embolization procedures, which is done in stages to protect the brain and heart.

Embolization is a brain procedure/surgery, but it is anything but simple. Instead of open brain surgery, doctors access the VOGM by using a small catheter entered into the artery in the groin. They carefully guide that catheter through the artery up into the brain. Once they locate the abnormal arteries feeding the malformation, the surgeon then slowly blocks those vessels using medical materials such as metal coils, and glue. The goal is not to shut everything down at once. Closing the vessels too quickly can be dangerous. Instead, doctors reduce blood flow gradually over multiple procedures, allowing the heart and brain time to adjust safely.

Tuff was diagnosed with his vogm at just 3 weeks old.

Three weeks into life, and his tiny heart was already working overtime. What we thought were newborn struggles turned into emergency rooms, hospital transfers, specialty teams, and a diagnosis that changed everything, our entire lives, overnight.

Since then, Tuff has faced more than most adults ever will. Almost 10 days of intubation, tons of testing, long nights surrounded by machines, and procedures that required faith, grit, and courage far beyond his size.

This Tuesday, Tuff goes in for his 4th embolization surgery.
Each procedure is another careful step toward giving his heart relief and protecting his growing brain.

It doesnt get easier with time. None of this is easy. None of it is guaranteed. But boy, has it taught us about life. How fragile. How precious.

We choose to share Tuff’s journey because we believe in the power of prayer. We believe in the energy that we put towards something. We also want to bring awareness to VOGM as early diagnosis can save lives.

And…

We are deeply grateful. For our community of support. For access to specialized care, for skilled doctors, compassionate nurses, and most importantly every milestone we are blessed to witness.

Please keep Tuff in your prayers this Tuesday as he takes on another battle.

As always,

Tough like Tuff 💙💪🏻

n

01/09/2026

Look who’s four months old (yesterday)!

Four months that have changed us forever. Four months we don’t take lightly, and celebrate every day as life has taught us just how fragile and sacred it really is. We thank God endlessly for allowing us these four months and for continuing to trust us with his life.

We love you baby boy and we are in awe of you every day!

Tough like Tuff 💙💪🏻

01/07/2026

I’ve tried to write this update a dozen times tonight, and every time I stop. So here it is, messy and honest.

First, the good, because there is SO much good.
Tuff is doing incredibly well. When he was discharged from Seattle in November, he was in the 6th percentile for growth. Today, he officially hit the 60th percentile. That number feels unreal after everything he’s been through. This kid is stronger than anyone knows. Tougher than most. And happy most of the time.

But tonight has been hard.

When Tuff is fussy, it’s not just crying, it’s screaming. The kind that rattles your nerves and makes you feel like you’re failing no matter what you do. Chris is sick and in bed. The kids were put to bed what felt like thirteen times. I was running on fumes, sweaty from a workout I did hours ago, and all I wanted was a shower.

The second I turned the water on, he lost it. Again.

Scout stepped in and took him so I could finally wash the day off my body. When I came back out, she was crying too. Frustrated, overwhelmed, unable to calm him. My heart broke and swelled at the same time. She tried so hard. I was and am so proud of her. A heart so big.

I finally got him settled, and he fell asleep in my arms. And here we are, still here. I’m afraid to move. Afraid to breathe too deeply. Afraid to wake him. But so grateful to listen to his little snores. These moments feel sacred when you’ve almost lost them.

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. Deep gut level gratitude that God gave us this chance with him.

I haven’t been posting much, and it’s not because I don’t care or because things are “easy.” It’s because I’m doing the opposite of what I used to do. I’m clinging to the moments instead of documenting them. I’m choosing to be present because I know how quickly everything can change.

Tuff’s next surgery is two weeks away, and the weight of it sits heavy.

Dreadful.

Maybe because life has felt more normal lately.

Maybe because our trauma has been lingering.

Maybe because the risks are still high and always will be.

Probably all of it.

Some days my faith feels strong. Other days it feels like I’m gripping it with white knuckles, begging God to carry what I can’t. Tonight is one of those nights.

But for now, I’m holding my baby while he sleeps.

And for tonight, that is enough.

As always, tough like Tuff 💙💪🏻

Tough Like Tuff

03/10/2026

03/09/2026

02/14/2026

01/24/2026

01/20/2026

01/16/2026

01/09/2026

01/07/2026

Address

Website

Alerts

Shortcuts

Share

Category