So this post has been a long time coming. The reason is I had started writing it already before Nieva got sick last year so this first part was written in April of 2015. I realized in looking back I had not finished it, but something amazing happened shortly after I wrote it that applies so boldly and beautifully that I need to share it with the world.

April 3, 2015...

I remember one of my first questions after Ava was diagnosed. We had been informed her immunity was going to get bad. That we were going to need to keep things clean and keep her away from germs and public places. My first fear was garbled out of my mouth in a panicky sort of way before I could even process everything fully...

“What about our pets?”

We have three cats (2 mostly outside and one inside) and a white toy poodle named Addy. A dog I saw one day in a pet store in 2009 and could not forget about. I had begged Jordon... we had to buy her. I just felt such a connection I couldn't understand (I honestly have never done anything like that before or after in terms of pets. It was strange).

Ava has a very special relationship though with Addy her Poodle. Addy takes care of Ava too. She follows her when we go to the park or play outside. She plays tea party, sits at the kitchen table, endures dress up, and being endlessly scooped up into Ava's arms. She sits patiently and dutifully on her lap in the car, on her trike, and of course Addy snuggles with Ava each night through story time.

Thankfully, our doctor reassured us immediately that we should not get rid of our beloved pets. That they would undoubtedly bring great joy to us through this difficult time. There is a balance system to all things and the benefits of the unconditional love given by pets during such a hard time... we were told it is highly likely the many benefits outweigh potential negatives. In retrospect he could not have been more right.

Ava is an only child. And Mom and Dad work a lot of hours. The joy is evident daily through her giggles and boisterous laughs from the other room. I wish I had every moment to devote to this sweet child, but it touches my heart that she can share my love of pets in a way that helps and heals her soul.

July 25, 2016.......

One of the worst days of my life was May 1, 2013. The day I was told my 2.5 year old daughter had childhood cancer... leukemia. But the second worst time of my life came when we thought we were going to lose her last spring. Late April in 2015 Nieva presented with a rash. We discovered after some initial disbelief that it was indeed chickenpox. (You can read the horrors of that story HERE or HERE). After her chemo weakened body succumbed to the virus it disseminated internally attacking her internal organs (on organs, in ears/nose/mouth) and then gave her viral pneumonia. After almost losing her, a life saving dose of VZIG and essentially a last ditch cocktail was attempted and by the grace of God she very slowly started making her way back. We were only able to find two other cases in the world where a child had endured something similar.

We were overjoyed Ava (Nieva) was waking up, but sadly this was short lived. When Nieva woke up she had been on life support for 10 days and no one knew how bad the damage had been from the internal attack on her lungs or brain. We were given no answers on what to expect. When she woke up we were initially filled with joy. But this joy was short lived. She stared right through us and did not move. She would turn her head side to side and look at the TV but did not smile, did not speak, and could not move her body.

We were completely terrified. After many days she slowly started wiggling fingers and said finally very minimum words, but still looked through us. She stared off without response. We believed we had lost her. We started contacting the few centers in the US that have specialty centers for children needing rehabilitation after episodes with life support.

Nieva slowly continued to gain some strength. A second pang of horror came when they tried easing her off the anti-virals and the chickenpox started coming back. Her body was so weak it still could not fight the infection off enough to get rid of it (We went on to battle this for months with IV treatments every 4 hours).

We got moved out of the PICU so we could get Nieva away from all the depressing lines, and cords and lack of sunlight. She was placed in a new room where we convinced them to let her bed be by the window so she could see outside. We started seeing small progress. She took a few steps and would say a few words, but mostly would still just look through us and was unresponsive to questions on whether she recognized family.

Jordon wrote on her caringbridge "Yesterday she would just stare at the wall, not listlessly, but rather looking around, as if she was hallucinating. She said she was scared (nodded when asked) -- and we are on the outside looking in -- so it is impossible to discern whether she is scared of what she sees, or if consciousness is so foreign to her at this point she doesn't quite know how to handle it."

This is where we get to the part of the story that comes full circle. We were not making progress and in such misery. I researched night and day unable to sleep. I came across a few articles on pet therapy thinking back to my research for the blog post I had planned to write a few weeks before this disaster came about. I knew what had to happen and so did Jordon. We convinced the hospital staff to let us take Nieva outside to visit her toy poodle, Addy. Her partner in crime. Her best little friend who had been unable to see her thus far.

I remember Jordon stood with Addy in his arms in the hospital garden near the fountain. And I wheeled her wheelchair towards them. When Addy saw Nieva she struggled and broke free from Jordon's arm running full speed and jumping wildly up on to Nieva's lap in her arms. We helped Nieva on to a blanket.

She laughed and then miraculously although she had hardly formed sentences or said anything since waking she opened up and said more in this hour visit than she had since opening her eyes from the ventilator a week prior. She crawled around with Addy (Which we had not known she could do). She also moved her arms and sat up. We could tell she was powering through the difficulty of sitting and relearning her muscles in a way she just had not had motivation to before.

After going back up into the room and rehooking Nieva up to her meds we could see she was lost. We begged hospital staff to let us do her IV therapy from home so she could continue to make progress. At first they wanted us to wait and we saw Nieva start going down hill again. Jordon knew we needed her home. We were able to convince them and go home.

After getting home, Nieva's most successful therapy tool continued to be an amazing loving little dog named Addy. Miracles can come in the smallest of packages. I truly believe Addy was and is Nieva's little angel. A miracle... in small fluffy form.