Miracles For Our Bébé

05/01/2026

🤍✨For National Zipper Scar Day (this mama is posting a little late as it is for April 29th)

Some babies enter the world pink and wailing. You came out blue and purple, with a cry so faint it felt like the whole world held its breath just to hear it. I leaned in, listening for the proof of you. A whisper of life. Fragile, but yours. Enough to tell me you were here-meant for me, meant for this life.
They lifted you just long enough for me to see your face, and then you were gone-rushed into bright lights and urgent hands before I ever got to pull you close.
I didn’t get to hold you. Didn’t get to breathe you in. Didn’t get that first moment most mamas dream of. But even in that distance, I knew you were meant to stay. God knew it. Your fighter spirit knew it. And somewhere deep inside, I knew it too. I needed you and you knew that. I will always need you.
Then came the surgeries. The tubes. The machines. The alarms that tried to tell me how fragile everything was. I was painfully aware. But you mattered more. My eyes stayed on you. Love was the only thing that made sense.
I have always seen you beyond the HLHS. Beyond the numbers. Beyond the charts. You are Teaks Ru. You are my son. You have a zipper scar-but it is not who you are.
You died twice. You were brought back twice. You were placed on ECMO twice, and still you stayed. Still you fought. You weren’t done. Your spirit refused to leave.
Then came the long, aching months when your skin could not be closed. Infection. Skin too thin, too fragile, too new for the world. Not enough to cover what needed protecting. You were so impossibly small that even the surgeons whispered about you.
The plastics team stepped in with techniques never attempted on a baby your size-manipulating skin and muscle with reverence, innovation born out of necessity and love. You helped advance medicine simply by needing to survive. You pushed the boundaries of what was possible just by being here.
I will never forget the day the plastic surgeon came out after operating. He looked at me gently and asked, “Mama, are you squeamish?” I told him no with a laugh. I had already seen too much to ever look away. Motherhood strips away anything unnecessary-fear, hesitation, softness that doesn’t serve. All that remained was the fierce truth: I will face anything for you.
He showed me a video he didn’t have to share, but somehow knew I needed to witness. Your tiny muscle, pulled over to close your skin-a maneuver never done before on a baby like you. And through that thin layer of muscle, I could see your heart beating.Alive.
Working.Fighting.
Right there beneath the muscle.
It was holy.
And then-there is Auntie Stephanie.
Not by blood, but by bond.
Claimed by us, claimed by you, claimed by the love she carries in her hands.
She is the one who knows your chest like a map she has memorized.
Part of your heart team.
Always part of your story.
She sewed you up with a tenderness only someone who loves you could hold.
When I saw the stitches, I didn’t have to ask.
I knew. I knew it was her.
I cried because I could feel the love in every single thread.
She didn’t just close your chest-she honored it.
Seeing you finally closed, truly closed-I cried again.
Not from fear, but from knowing the love that went into every stitch.
The care.
The precision.
The hope.
The understanding that this line on your chest
would be something you’d look down at for the rest of your life,
and that the people who placed it there did so with everything they had.
We are forever tied to the teams who opened and closed you-the plastics team who innovated for you, and the heart team who loves you through their craft.
They are our family now.
They held your life in their hands, and treated it like something sacred and still do.
One day, someone might point at your scar.
Someone might ask.
Someone might tease-though I pray they never do.
And if they do, may you remember this my sweet baby:
That line is not a flaw.
It is a testament.
It is the story of how you lived when living was not guaranteed.
It is the mark of a child who has already endured
more than most adults ever will.
People fought for you.
You fought for you.
Love carried you the whole way.
So yes, baby-your chest looks like a zipper.
But thank God you are here to zip it up,
to breathe,
to laugh,
to grow,
to live.
Your scar is not what was done to you.
It is what you overcame.
It is what you survived.
It is what you are-a miracle stitched into skin.
Mama loves you.
The heart community loves you.
And your zipper shines like the badge of the bravest kind of life.

©Kayle Dickie Lucas

04/28/2026

Watch him GO…!!!!

04/28/2026

Whoa… it has truly been a minute since I’ve posted an update. Life has been full, busy, messy, beautiful-and we’ve been soaking up every bit of it. Our sweet Teaks is thriving in ways that still catch me off guard and make me emotional in the best way.
He’s getting up on his knees now, pushing up with so much determination, working on standing, and even trying to walk-yes, WALK. In physical and occupational therapy, he continues to surprise us. Every session he pushes through something new, conquers a skill, or shows us a strength we didn’t know he had. He’s still scared to stand without support; he can do it, but the feeling of instability and the amount of core strength it takes is overwhelming for him. You can see the fear in his little body, but you can also see the courage. We know he’s capable, and he’s proving it!
And I have to pause here to say this: his therapists, Amy Elmore and Amanda Phillips, deserve so much praise. They genuinely love him. They laugh with him, celebrate him, and think he is the silliest little goose. I hope they know deep in their hearts that he would not be where he is-motor‑wise, confidence‑wise, courage‑wise-without their hands, their patience, and their belief in him. They are part of his story in such a meaningful way.
We are also deeply thankful for Teaks and Olen’s school. They are not “just a school” -they are family. I walked in the other day with a physical therapy video of Teaks standing and taking a few steps, and the director, Mrs. Amy, cried. Real tears. She was so proud, so overjoyed, so invested. That’s the kind of love they show our boys.
And beyond the emotional support, they have worked so hard to learn him-his feeding needs, his g‑tube, his cues, his rhythms. They help him stay steady with eating by mouth and staying hydrated through his tube. They go above and beyond to make sure he is safe, nourished, and included. They don’t treat him like the “different one” or the “complicated one.” He is simply Teaks to them-part of his little class, part of their hearts, part of their family. They include him fully, joyfully, and without hesitation. I am deeply, deeply grateful for that kind of community.
One of the most beautiful things lately has been watching the bond between Teaks and his big brother, Olen, deepen in ways that feel almost sacred. They recently went to a pediatric appointment together, and Teaks had to get vaccines. Olen stood right beside him the whole time, rubbing his head, patting him gently, whispering, “It’s okay, boo boo… it’s okay, brother,” and giving him little kisses. It was one of those moments that stops you in your tracks-the kind you tuck away forever. Our kids will outlive us, and I pray they always care for one another with that same tenderness, that same instinctive love. I pray for a lifelong bond where they love each other’s presence, lift each other up, and stay connected in all the unique ways only siblings can.
We took a family trip to the Birmingham Zoo on Sunday-Teaks’ first time. Olen has been before, but now that he’s older, he was practically sprinting from exhibit to exhibit, so excited we could barely keep up. Watching them take in the world side by side is something I’ll never stop being grateful for.
We’ve also been spending time at the lake, and I want to share this part honestly because it’s been both joyful and heavy on my heart. Teaks loves the water. His whole face lights up. But he can’t get in the lake yet-he’s still aspirating liquids, and he’s just still a small bebe. And I’ll be honest… I am scared. Not scared in a way that keeps us from living, but scared in the way a mama’s heart never stops scanning for danger. Both boys are still so little, neither knows how to swim (YET), and with Teaks’ aspiration issues, my mind goes to all the “what ifs” faster than I’d like to admit.
I don’t want them to be afraid of water. I want them to love it, respect it, enjoy it. But I’m navigating that tension between giving them freedom and keeping them safe. So please pray for peace over my heart and wisdom in how to handle these moments. And yes-swim lessons are absolutely going happen, so working on getting those soon. I want them confident, capable, and safe.
For now, Teaks enjoys the water from the pool in a float, and both he and Olen have life jackets or floats on at all times. And I am always, always right there with them. Teaks loves drifting around, relaxing, taking it all in-the cutest little chill baby you’ve ever seen. Those moments are gifts.
On the feeding front, he’s doing so well eating by mouth. His g‑tube is mostly for hydration now. He has teeth coming in and is learning how to chew-though right now he’s a bit of a “fake chewer.” 🫣😬😂 He’ll move his mouth like he’s chewing, but during his swallow study, the barium showed he was swallowing things whole. They commented “he is really smart” to do that faking! Ha! His most recent study still showed aspiration with liquids, so no new allowances yet. We’re continuing to work on sipping and swallowing properly. Please pray he masters chewing and swallowing sooner rather than later. We’re patient, but it will make mealtimes so much more enjoyable for him. He loves food. Carrots are a favorite. He likes chocolate. And yes-he loves Doritos. Please don’t panic; I grind them into a powder and mix them into meals.
We do have a big prayer request: Teaks has been found to have some scoliosis. It’s a slight curve, and orthopedics is following him closely. His first appointment is coming up, and we’re praying it corrects itself and doesn’t cause future issues. We’re hoping he won’t need a brace at this little age, but we trust and value the doctors’ guidance.
I have so many more updates to share soon-including his birthday pictures and the give‑back project we’ve started for Children’s of Alabama in honor of Teaks. We are so grateful for every prayer, every message, every bit of love continually sent our way. If you’re not seeing updates as often, it’s because we’re out living-something we never take for granted. We love you all.

04/28/2026

Big Brother Olen catching his 1st fish ever at Castin' 'N Catchin' with his da-da Zach Lucas

04/28/2026

I was so grateful that our family was able to be part of Castin' 'N Catchin' this year. With our baby boy Teaks’ HLHS journey and the many months we lived in the CVICU at Children's of Alabama, anything that supports the Congenital Heart Center of Alabama is very near-quite literally-to our hearts.

It meant so much to exchange hugs and heart‑journey stories with other mamas. This path holds both joy and sorrow, but standing among people who truly understand, who advocate, who show up with so much strength and love, continually leaves me in awe and deeply thankful.

All proceeds from the Castin’ ’N Catchin’ fishing tournament go directly to the Pediatric & Congenital Heart Center of Alabama.

To date, this fundraiser has helped support a full‑time research assistant, research on renal care for cardiac patients, and a camp that teaches heart warriors how to care for their own conditions. These incredible things happen because of the generosity and support of everyone involved. ❤️

04/10/2026

Teal Day for Counseling Awareness Month-so many shades, all welcome. Feeling the sunshine, loving my boys, and grateful for the honor of being a counselor while growing through my own journey too.

04/06/2026

Their love is a celebration every day. ‘How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity.’ -Psalm 133:1

We hope everyone had a wonderful Easter. Never forgetting how God is ALWAYS with us.

03/12/2026

03/12/2026

❤️(3/11/26) A Heart Full, A Body Tired, and So Much Held at Once
I’ve been slow to post, not just because I’m tired, but because the exhaustion has really been hitting me. My body still feels tight, like I can’t quite take a full breath yet, and I’m asking for prayers for that-not for anyone to feel sorry for me, just prayer. When everything builds up at once, your body eventually speaks up, even when your heart keeps pushing forward.
Our sweet Teaks has been in the hospital again. Rhinovirus has sent him there every time he’s had it, so we were preparing ourselves for another longer stay. But today (3/11/26) brought so much good news. His sats climbed back into the 80s, he even touched the 90s, and he never had another fever after arriving on the unit! He came off oxygen completely and held his sats on his own. And today… he got to come home (3/11/26)!
Last night (3/10/26), I got to go home to be with Olen while my mom stayed with Teaks. My mom is truly superhuman-she cooked dinner before heading to the hospital, then turned around and stayed the night with my baby so I could rest. Olen and I ate her dinner, then went home and played. He is absolutely obsessed with horses right now, so we watched them together via Spirit, laughed, and then snuggled up. I don’t think I moved once all night. My body just shut down the second I hit the bed.
Being home with Olen stirred something deep in me. I’ve missed him so much. These few days in the hospital felt heavier than I expected, and the longing for home with both of my boys was almost painful. It made me think, How did I do months in the hospital without barely leaving? Because even this short stay brought back that ache-wanting to be in two places at once, hoping the stay wouldn’t be long, hurting from missing one child while caring for the other. Simple is not simple. Every minute of life and growing up with my boys is precious beyond words, and being away from either of them pulls at me in a way I can’t fully explain.
This morning came early. I got Olen to school, then headed straight to the hospital to be with Teaks and do my counseling sessions from there (HIPPA compliant still). That’s been my rhythm-mothering, working, praying, and doing my best to keep everything moving even when I’m running on fumes.
And today, everything moved forward at once. He ate so well-apple chicken without thickener, a peanut butter cracker at school when we picked up his brother, a wafer, and half of a giant chocolate chip cookie from Panera that my dad brought him (it was literally as big as his face). These are big steps — harder textures, no aspiration, real progress. We’ll alternate some feeds with Pedialyte for a few days, but he’s clearly moving back toward eating more by mouth than through his g‑tube.
He even gets to return to school already tomorrow (3/12/26). That fills me with so much joy he gets to be in school now-he gets to be around kids his age, learning, developing, thriving.
To the hospital staff: thank you. Thank you for caring for him, for stopping in to see how much he’s grown, for loving him like your own. His echocardiogram looked great today, and that lifted a weight I didn’t even realize I was still carrying.
Please continue praying for the CCU and CVICU. Sickness is hitting our heart babies hard right now. Their little hearts work so much harder than ours, and your prayers truly matter.
Thank you to my clients for understanding while I worked from the hospital today. Your grace means everything.
We’ve also been in communication with the Children’s of Alabama Foundation, and we’re excited to give back. I’ll share more soon about how you can join us if you want to.
I’m sitting here deeply grateful and deeply tired. Grateful he’s/we are home. Grateful he’s smiling. Grateful for the people who love us. Grateful for the strength to keep going. And grateful that God always shows up.
We love you all.

03/10/2026

❤️😭🥰💉Update on Us 3/8/26-3/10/26

I’m writing this in the middle of the night from the CCU. The room is kind of dim except for the glow of monitors, and my baby is finally resting. My mind isn’t quiet and I know and feel that I do need sleep, but instead I’m watching my baby and the numbers on the screen, watching his breathing. That’s where my heart is right now,my focus. Our heart baby is back in the CCU.
Sunday night we went to my parents’ for dinner. It’s a short drive and one we’ve made so many times, but in that tiny stretch of road, everything shifted. By the time we pulled in, I could feel the heat off of Teaks. I had already given him Motrin earlier because something in me knew he wasn’t himself. That mama sense never lies.
The moment we walked in, my parents did what they always do: they loved us hard. They love our boys like they’re extensions of their own hearts. We are their world, and they are ours. Nobody has to ask for help because everyone just steps in naturally, the way true love and care is.
Dad took Teaks gently, held him close, and “walkie-walkied” him around the house the way only Paw-Paw can. He talked to him softly, rubbed his head, and we put a cool rag on him. He eventually fell asleep in Dad’s arms, but his breathing was heavier than it should be.
And our sweet Olen… our boy is connected to his Teakie in a way that feels heaven-made. Every time Teaks cried, Olen ran over with his whole little heart, whispering “it’s okay bruddhhhaa” in the softest voice, kissing his cheek with a “mmwah.” He watches over him like a tiny guardian. Their bond is something I thank God for every day-I prayed really hard to see it.
We ate Gee-Gee’s dinner and yummy…the kind that tastes like comfort and we soaked in the love that always fills their home. Then we headed back to our house. Zach took Teaks straight to bed, and Olen and I stayed up to play like we do. He needs his mama time too and same for me my Olen, and I treasure those moments.
Monday morning came early. Zach got Teaks up before work and said he seemed a little better. I put him in his high chair with Mrs. Rachel on, started his tube feed to get fluids and meds in him, and for a moment things seemed ok with Teaks.
Then near the end of the feed, he started crying harder. I stopped the feed, but he kept crying and getting hotter. I got him out, tried to calm him, hold him so close, and then he threw up everywhere…on himself, on me, on the floor. He looked up at me crying loudly with those eyes that say, “Mama, help me,” and I felt that ache only a mother knows.
Meanwhile my Olen was still soundly asleep, I had to get Olen to school, I had a 10am appointment, Zach was on call… and it was one of those days where life has many moving parts and you just breathe and move through each one.
I called my mama. She was in the shower but said she’d meet me at the school. She answers and beyond. She even brought me Starbucks, my exact what I get order (she just knows it), and a tumbler covered in hearts-the only one they had. It felt like a little sign meant for our heart family. She rode with me and Teaks to my appointment, and thankfully they still saw me.
We got a pediatrician appointment for 2:45PM for Teaks. With time in between, Mama took us to P.F. Chang’s because she knows Chinese food is my favorite and hers a good bit too. And in true Teaks fashion, his first fortune cookie said, “Your optimism will bring comfort to others.” That’s him because even sick, he carries light.
At the pediatrician, things changed fast. His fever was 103.7. His sats were dropping into the 70s and then the 60s. They swabbed him and sadly positive for rhinovirus. Every time he’s had this, he’s been hospitalized. I knew what was coming but still held hope for him to get away from the hospital.
They called Children’s for a direct admit, but we still had to go through the ER. They let me drive him, but made sure I knew they were concerned-his sats, the virus, and that they think this is likely just the beginning.
And here’s where the moving parts really began. We were an hour from home. Me and mama had one car. Zach was on call and at work. Dad was in Decatur. Olen was still at school. And Mama was with me.
Not a burden AND a lot to coordinate very quickly, a lot of love moving in different directions at once. Mama drove me and Teaks to Children’s ER so I could focus on Teaks-we can’t wait around in low sats, and then she turned right back around to get Olen. I called Olen’s school and they are truly family to us and they prayed over us and kept Olen safe through a tornado watch until Gee-Gee got there. Everyone doing their part, everyone loving our boys. In the ER, they had to stick him multiple times for labs and fluids. He hated it and me too. They put him on wall oxygen, which helped his sats, but his fever spiked again. He was admitted to the CCU. His fever has since broken, but he still needs oxygen. For a room-air baby like Teaks, needing oxygen tells you he is sick and needs help to breathe. Zach drove down after work, even though he’s on call. His coworkers offered to help cover him were grateful. He brought me a bag, a pillow, blankets, clothes for Teaks. He fell asleep on the couch in his work clothes. I showered around 1am here at the hospital. He woke up at 2:30amish to drive home so he could leave for work by 7:20AM.
Olen is with my parents. I didn’t get to see him…and that’s the part that tugs at me. He FaceTimed me, carrying the phone around saying “where are you mama? Mama sit,” then set the phone down so I could “play” with him. He loves his Gee-Gee and Paw-Paw, and they had dinner ready for him and Zach before Zach left. They always take care of us. We’re tired, but semi/trying our best to hold steady. We’re grateful always and not complaining. We’re doing what needs to be done for both our boys. Children’s is an hour away, and coordinating everything with one car (mine has to have maintenance) and two little ones was not simple, but we’re here, and we’re doing it.
And here’s the truth-we know this hospital well I’m gonna say our family here. We know these halls, these rooms, these machines. I know the way the monitors sound when they’re “happy” and when they’re not. I know how to read his sats before the numbers even change. I know how to advocate, how to comfort, how to hold him through things no baby should have to endure. I could be a nurse with everything I’ve learned maybe but I’m not. I’m his nurse, in the way only a mama can be. Not taking anything from the title of those of you who truly are and work damn hard for it, just honoring the way motherhood teaches you things you never expected to know.
Pray that Teaks holds his sats, that he doesn’t get worse, and that we can bring him home fast-the hospital can also give him other germs too. He’s a fighter, and he’s resting now with his oxygen.
It’s after 3am as I write this. My mind is loud, but my babies are resting, and that’s enough for this moment.
Thank you for standing with us. We love you all.

02/18/2026

Children's of Alabama is the best place to be! We are so grateful for the Hearts at Home program when Teaks was in his interstage period from Norwood to Glenn. They care so much and we had quick access to his team. 🤍 Thank you!!!!

https://buff.ly/s70iJBJ