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.