Some of you that know my pregnancy stories that was followed by Bradys extremely premature birth story know why Ronald McDonald House Charities of the Carolinas is so important to us.

But, those of you who are wondering why we’re wearing striped socks and going through this social media focused fundraiser - have a seat, you’re in for a ride. 

May 25, 2008 - I gave birth to a 1lb, 3.6oz, 23 weeker. A little girl. Kali Iris lived for 3hrs and 14 minutes after birth before realizing she was way too beautiful for this Earth. I had an e-coli infection in my placenta from a botched cervical procedure that, come to find out, should have NEVER been done while I was pregnant. My body was rejecting what was killing me - and unfortunately, Kali was attached to it. 

September 12, 2009 - I gave birth to a 6lb, 5oz 35 week little boy (Jack) due to preeclampsia and gallstones being stuck in my bile duct. 
 
March 7, 2018 - I woke up in severe, severe pain at 4am. A pain that I can’t even put into words. I woke Adam up and told him I needed to go to the hospital. Something was wrong. I reiterated it was “too high” in my abdomen to be a problem with the baby. But, something was wrong. Ambulance took me to AnMed. While there, I started vomiting bile. It is anatomically impossible for a gastric bypass patient to puke bile - unless there’s a blockage. AnMed tried to send me home with a diagnosis of a stomach virus. I called my gastric surgeon, she immediately transferred me to PRISMA. Where, they vey reluctantly, sent me for a CT Scan (they don’t like giving pregnant women that much radiation). At this point, I was in and out of consciousness from pain. My OBGYN and the Gastric Resident physician were going over the risks of doing laparoscopic exploratory surgery to find out why I was in so much pain, while waiting on the CT scan to come back. 

She said for the first time that entire day, I became 100% lucid and coherent, grabbed her hand - looked her straight in the eye and said, “We are dying.” and immediately passed back out. She said when a patient is in the state I was in and tells you they’re dying - they are 100% dying. They immediately unlocked my bed and started rolling me down to surgery. I can’t quite describe everything because I was in and out of consciousness. I 100% remember seeing bright lights while being wheeled and knowing I was going to die. Once in the OR, I was transferred to the operating table and told to count backwards. I remember looking over at the bright door with a nurse and the resident and he said, “We told her it was laparoscopic, with the possibility of open. On the way down, radiology called - she has a bowel intussusception, she’s close to being septic. It’s open.” I usually pray the entire time I’m being put to sleep to make it back to my “earthly baby.” (Jack). I didn’t this time. I knew I was dying and had come to peace with it.

But, God. 

13 inches of my small intestine was removed. A feeding tube surgically implanted into my stomach… and still pregnant. Brady was showing absolutely no signs of stress. I was contracting, but magnesium was able to stop them. Two days later, in recovery, it was a Friday. I was told I could go home on Monday.

Fifteen minutes later, my water broke. A NICU neonatologist, Matthew Holliday specifically, and told me all about the NICU. He was calm, confident, and gave me absolutely no reason to doubt that my baby wouldn’t survive, even if born right then and there. 

So, we waited. Complete bedrest. Daily magnesium to stop contractions and to help brain development/stop brain bleeds. Bethamethasone to help his lungs develop. Iron infusions because I was severely anemic. Tube feeds. 

10 days later, they couldn’t stop the contractions. I was in labor with baby #3, at 27 weeks exactly. They brought in an ultrasound to check on his development, so they sort of knew what to expect. He was breached. So, I was rushed down for an emergency c-section. 

2lb & 8oz of a complete fighter. I was able to see him, for 2 seconds, when they were carrying him out of the OR to go to the NICU. Tiny. Absolutely tiny. 

3 days later, I was able to hold him for the first time. Then I was discharged home. 

Ronald McDonald House called me the very next day & said they had a room for me that following Monday. A few hours later, while at Sonny & Pam’s house, I got a phone call from the NICU. These become dreaded, by the way. The NICU doesn’t call unless it’s something bad. 

It was Dr. Holliday. They tried to take Brady off the ventilator and put him on a CPAP. He didn’t do well, so they reintubated him. When they did this, a TON of blood came out. Their suspicions were a pulmonary embolism and we needed to get there immediately. For those of you that don’t know, pulmonary embolisms are basically a death sentence in NICU. The entire ride to the hospital was silent, except Hillsong United - Oceans on repeat. 

We get there, he’s stable - a chest X-ray had been performed and there was no sign of an embolism and they have no idea where the blood came from. Won’t He do it. 

The next few days are honestly a blur. Severe anxiety, depression, not wanting to leave my baby. But, not wanting to become attached either because I KNEW if I had to bury another baby, there was a good chance, I’d have to be committed. 

I moved into Ronald McDonald House & met, my now best friend, Lilia Millner. We spent 8-18 hours a day in the NICU & would come back to RMH, eat dinner together. Pump. Go to bed… and do it all over again the next day. See, her little boy was a 28 week induction because he only had one partially functioning kidney and she had zero measurable amniotic fluid. He was born a week prior to Brady… so she had a couple days of experience on me.

Every morning, RMH had breakfast for us. Lunch (but we were always at the hospital and never ate it there). Cookies. They had therapy dogs that would come in. That poor dogs furr had more tears than the ocean. They ALWAYS, without fail, had a hot dinner for us. Every. Single. Night.

They had toys and gaming systems for our other kids. They sent us to events. Hockey games, plays, sporting events. They try to restore a feeling of normalcy when you’re going through the hardest time in your life.

They hug you. They give you a warm bed. They give you hot meals. Shampoo. Toothpaste. Deodorant. Gift Cards. They clean your room & the kitchen. Soap. Laundry detergent. Washer and dryers right down the hall. They let you talk to them and you NEVER feel like a burden. Ever. 

Ronald McDonald House, is without a doubt, saved my life (I was severely malnourished, exhausted, and depressed) & they 100% of the time made sure I was healthy enough to make it to the NICU to make sure Brady would have a mom. Skin to skin in the NICU, the babies feeling heartbeats (especially the moms) have been proven to help improve their health.

Ronald McDonald House helped my baby get better, by making sure I was as healthy as I could be. 

Please, watch the video below, and find it in your heart to help the people that have helped me and thousands of other families be close to their sick child. Families deserve to be close to their sick child and Ronald McDonald House does that without ever asking you to pay for a dime. They stay open on donations, y’all. Pure donations help families stay close to their kids.

$1.00, $5.00, $10.00 - ANY amount that you can give, WILL help a family stay close to their child. You can 100% Facebook Pay, Venmo (@KalaChappelear), CashApp ($KalaChappie), Zelle (8647236578), Apple Pay (8647236578) or PayPal (kalachappelear@att.net) with your email address and I will manually input your donation & you will get a tax deductible receipt. 

Please help other families. Please help me repay them for everything they’ve done for our family.