The number one thing I’ve heard since Sabrina’s diagnosis is: “I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
And you’re right. It’s unimaginable, and I hope you never have to experience this — the horror, the grief, the surreal fear, the constant shock of trying to understand how your perfect baby suddenly needs a new heart. I still struggle with how huge it all is, and I’m living it.
In those first days, when the enormity of Sabrina’s diagnosis finally sank in, I didn’t know how to keep moving forward. I practically bullied Sabrina’s medical team into giving me the names and phone numbers of other parents who had walked this road. I asked daily. I needed someone who had lived this nightmare and survived it. I needed to hear from someone who could tell me that it was possible to keep breathing.
Eventually, they did give me those names — and two of the very first parents I connected with were Miguella and Emily. I’ve now met both families and their beautiful, strong girls, and I am so grateful to them.
When I met Emily and her daughter Rinkin in person — Rinkin, who is now three years out from her transplant and full of life — it was the first time since all of this started that I felt something resembling hope. I remember telling Emily that I didn’t understand how she survived this… how she lived through the waiting, the fear, the freefall we are in right now. And she looked at me and said:
“Have you seen the documentary?”
I had no idea that during their own months of terror and survival mode, these two families had worked with a film team to create a documentary that walks through the entire pediatric heart transplant journey — every stage, including the actual transplant itself. It’s incredibly hard to watch, but that’s the point: it shows exactly what this process really is. And it isn’t just any team on the screen — it’s the exact team we are working with now.
The same doctors, nurses, and social worker.
The same transplant coordinators and child life staff.
The same surgeon who will one day have my daughter’s life in his hands.
Every face in it is someone I know. It is so honest and so complete that watching it felt like looking into a mirror of my life right now.
In the middle of the same unimaginable emotions I’m feeling now, they chose to take their pain and turn it into something intensely raw, honest, and profoundly beautiful.
It actually took me over a month from learning about the documentary to find the courage to watch it. The first time I finally pressed play was a night I was alone at the Ronald McDonald House. I was already carrying so much, and watching it brought up emotions I didn’t even have names for — intense, overwhelming, and incredibly moving. And somehow, in the middle of all of that, it gave me something I desperately needed: hope.
Because these weren’t just families on a screen.
They were girls I’ve met. Girls who are thriving.
Seeing them living full, vibrant lives after transplant made me believe, maybe for the first time, that Sabrina could get there too. The documentary wrecked me, moved me, grounded me — and in a strange way, it comforted me. Because for the first time, I could see the path Sabrina might take. I could see kids come out on the other side. I could see families who survived what we are facing right now. And that is a gift I can never repay.
So when people say, “I can’t imagine,” I understand.
But if you want to understand even a sliver of our reality…
If you want to feel the hope we are fighting for every day…
If you want to honor the families who turned their darkest season into something that now supports families like mine…
Please watch this documentary.
Then hug your people tight. Really fucking tight.
And maybe have a few hard but important conversations about organ donation — because if the unimaginable ever happened to someone you love, the gift of life can change everything.
The password is FreeHeartSisters.