The weekend was quiet, but fragile moments of hope appeared.
Avry had been awake more in the last few days, little pockets of energy where she would sit up and color.

She even asked for mac and cheese, but after one bite, she spit it out.
Her mouth was still raw and sore; swallowing was impossible, and nothing tasted right.

The bleeding had increased, a frightening and painful development.

Watching a child lose blood and being powerless to stop it was excruciating.
Despite this, Avry remained a trooper.

Since Friday, nosebleeds came and went, nothing catastrophic, yet she was hyper-aware of each one.

She tried to manage them herself, wiping constantly, leaving her mouth and hands stained with blood—a heartbreaking sight for her family.

Because of Defibrotide, the medication for her liver, anticoagulants could not be given.

The balance was delicate, and every decision mattered.

Even amid suffering, Avry clung to hope and imagination.
She talked about the food she would eat once she went home—lasagna, spaghetti, and pumpkin pie—all on her “first-week-home” list.

She would sit up in bed, voice trembling, asking piercing, heart-wrenching questions:
“Are we ever going to go home? I don’t want to live in this hospital forever. Please ask the doctors when we can go home.”

She was talking more than before, and she looked better than a week ago.
Yet in Dr. Cohn’s words, “She’s still a very sick little girl,” and recovery would take time.

Her parents, however, felt quietly hopeful that she might be home sooner than expected, despite the doctors’ caution.

Avry received half doses of platelets twice daily to avoid fluid overload.

The platelets had not yet grafted, which is why she required frequent transfusions.
Her family prayed that the bleeding would stop and her tissues would begin to heal.

Meanwhile, life outside the hospital offered glimpses of normalcy.

Jake and Trace spent a day riding their dirt bike, wild and free.
Trace laughed, saying, “Dad, this was the best day since cancer.”
Hearing that laughter, the freedom, and joy, felt like a healing of its own.

But the hospital remained relentless.
An antibiotic was discontinued, only for a fever to return by Sunday.
Blood pressure spiked, requiring medication to bring it down.
The monitors were constantly alarming, a terrifying reminder of how fragile Avry’s condition remained.

On October 13, Day +14 post-transplant, the medical team decided to go back to the drawing board.
Infectious disease specialists were consulted, and all three antibiotics were restarted after her fevers and bleeding persisted.

Avry did not feel well at all.

Bleeding increased, oxygen support became necessary, and fevers spiked again.
It was a long, hard day, each minute heavy with fear, hope, and exhaustion.

Her small body was fighting on multiple fronts—organ failure medication, internal bleeding, respiratory support, and high fevers signaling an unknown infection.
The burden was immense for her family to hold—the hope, the waiting, the fear—but even here, small mercies appeared in the chaos.

Through it all, her family clung to faith.
They asked for a miracle, lifting their brave girl in prayer, believing in healing and calm amidst the storm.
Even in the midst of overwhelming uncertainty, they trusted that God was at the helm.

They held onto scripture, finding strength in the words:
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you.” (Isaiah 43:2)

Through every Red Sea they had faced, God had made a way, and they trusted He would again.

Avry’s fight is far from over, but her courage shines through.
Her small victories, her words, and her spirit remind everyone that even in the darkest times, hope, love, and strength endure.

Her story is a call for prayer, support, and faith, a reminder of the resilience of a child facing unimaginable challenges.

Her family prays for healing, for calm amidst chaos, and for strength to rise again tomorrow.
They ask the world to lift their girl, the medical team, and their family in thought and prayer.
Even in suffering, even in uncertainty, they hold fast to the hope that she will see better days.

Avry’s courage, determination, and resilience are a beacon of inspiration for all who witness her journey.
Every small moment—sitting up, asking for food, laughing—becomes monumental in the fight against this illness.
Though the road is long and heavy, the love surrounding Avry is unwavering, carrying her through each day.