A Miracle Worth Sharing: Faith, Survival, and Gratitude

How Did I Go From This… to This in Just 3 Days?

SO WHAT HAD HAPPENED WAS...

Three days after Thanksgiving, on Sunday, December 1st, I went to the ER in Tuscaloosa, AL, thinking I had gallbladder issues. Turns out, I had double pneumonia in both lungs and the flu. The doctors kept pushing oxygen at me, but my body just couldn’t take it. They warned me that if I couldn’t improve, they’d have to put me on a ventilator. All I could think about were the COVID patients who never made it back home.

I was hot, dizzy, and scared. Before I knew it, someone was coming at me with a needle. I said a prayer, looked at my Babe with tears in his eyes, and then… lights out.

After a series of test and trying to get my vitals stabilized...I FLATLINED. For 6 minutes, my heart stopped. The room was chaos—doctors calling CODE BLUE, pounding on my chest with CPR, while my family prayed harder than ever before. My boyfriend, watching helplessly, called my name. His mother, unwavering in her faith, went straight to Jesus. The doctors told them, “Call her family. It’s not looking good.”

My parents drove from New Orleans in record time. My sister couldn’t get to me fast enough. My friends and family practically took over the hospital.

The doctors at DCH in Tuscaloosa did everything they could, but I needed more. I was rushed to UAB Medical Center in Birmingham—home to some of the best doctors and advanced equipment. I will never forget the gratitude I have for both hospitals that fought so hard to save my life.

Even in sedation, I could feel the prayers. I could sense the sadness, the fight, and the love in the hearts of everyone who surrounded me. But deep inside, I knew: IT WAS TIME TO FIGHT.

I woke up 5 days later, alive but changed—ribs fractured from CPR, tubes everywhere, unable to move or speak. I was broken but not beaten. I fought—relearning how to swallow, talk, and walk.. things we take for granted on a daily.

When I asked my mom if it was Tuesday, she softly said, “No Baby, it’s Friday.” That’s when it hit me, I couldn't do anything but shed tears—with the realization this was real, and I almost didn’t make it.

Once I understood the assignment, I fought hard. I pushed every day. The doctors and nurses were in awe of my progress, and they started calling me a miracle. I missed milestones like telling my mom “Happy Birthday” on December 8th, but being alive to tell this story—that was the greatest gift of all.

After 13 days, I walked out of that hospital, not just alive, but grateful beyond words.

I’m sharing my story because life is a gift, and I am so blessed to be here. I know many families who didn’t get the outcome we did, and I’ve prayed for their peace every step of the way.

So many of you have asked how you can help. While my goal is to celebrate this miracle, I also want to be honest: unexpected medical bills and lost wages don’t stop when life does. If you feel led to give, know that I will receive your support with the deepest gratitude as I continue to heal and rebuild. (if you have direct access to me please send via Apple P4y, no fees)

Above all, I want to say this:

GOD IS GOOD ALL THE TIME,

AND ALL THE TIME, GOD IS GOOD.

Thank you for your love, prayers, and support. I love you all more than you know