Hi, my name is Trevon Leblanc, and I am creating this GoFundMe in honor of my daughter, Milani.
Milani was born at just 23 weeks on August 11th and tragically passed away on August 22nd. She was our beautiful baby girl, our first true gift from God, and the brightest light in our lives. From the moment we laid eyes on her, we knew our world had changed forever. She was innocent, perfect, and so deeply loved by her mom and dad, and by her entire family.
Her time here on earth was short, but her story is one of courage, love, and heartbreak.
When Milani was hospitalized, we were told so many different things about her health. At first, doctors told us she had a bacterial infection growing inside her stomach. Then they mentioned there may have been something in her blood. Toward the end, they told us she had NEC (Necrotizing Enterocolitis), a severe condition that affects the intestines. We were assured she was only receiving donor breast milk, which was supposed to be safest for her fragile state. But later, we found out that wasn’t the case, which left us with even more questions and heartbreak.
As parents, one of the hardest moments for us was seeing the changes in her tiny body. Her stomach began turning a greenish-blue color, something no parent should ever have to witness. To try and help her, the doctors made an incision near the side of her belly and placed a drainage tube to clear out fluid and whatever may have been going on inside.
She was placed on insulin, antibiotics, steroids, and several other strong medications that were hard to even name. Watching her tiny body endure all of this was heartbreaking, but still we held on to faith and hope, because Milani kept showing us her strength.
But our trust and faith were tested even more by the way her case was handled. One doctor, Mr. Tiffany, often came across as cold and nonchalant. He told us things like “She just won’t survive,” or “I cannot help her.” He asked if we wanted to baptize her and told us we should prepare to hold her because she had no chance at survival.
What made it harder was noticing how different things seemed when we were present versus when we stepped away. Whenever we were with Milani, her stats were stable, and she looked stronger. But when we would leave her alone, Mr. Tiffany and his team would go in, and suddenly Milani would not look as good. Our suspicions grew, and we couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
Even the way her stomach looked was brushed off. Instead of giving us answers, they admitted they had never truly seen or understood why her belly looked the way it did. They began naming possible reasons, one after another, but never with certainty. For us, the whole experience was strange, confusing, and deeply unsettling.
When we expressed how discouraging Mr. Tiffany’s words were, some nurses tried to defend him, saying things like, “He’s been doing this a long time, and professionals like him can be very blunt, straightforward, and real. If he says something, nine times out of ten he is right.” But to us, it didn’t matter how long he had been doing this—he could still have chosen words that lifted our little girl up instead of tearing down our hope. When we told one nurse that, they responded, “Well, from past experiences, we don’t want to give families too much hope, because then it seems like everything is okay.” To us, that explanation wasn’t good enough. We believed Milani deserved hope, encouragement, and positivity—because she was still fighting.
In one moment, when Milani was picking her stats back up, instead of celebrating her fight, Mr. Tiffany walked in, crouched down, stood back up, and with hand gestures said, “Well, I guess we will see how long she lasts with us. My odds are she’s just not going to, okay?” Those words crushed us. And soon after, her little body, worn down from all the compressions, medications, and strain, just couldn’t handle any more. Her heart gave out, and she was gone.
Afterward, Mr. Tiffany even tried to talk us out of an autopsy, saying we didn’t need one because “we saw the cause of her death.” But as her parents, that didn’t sit right with us. We believe Milani’s life and her fight deserved to be fully understood—not dismissed.
Despite everything, Milani held on as long as she could. She was strong in ways we can’t even describe, but in the end, God called her home.
The pain of losing a child is something no parent is ever prepared for. The hardest part is knowing that she should still be here with us, and that we should be holding her in our arms today. Our hearts are broken in ways we can’t explain, but our love for her will never fade. We will forever keep her name alive and honor her memory.
This GoFundMe is being created to help us lay Milani to rest with the love and dignity she deserves. No parent prepares to bury their child, and this is the most difficult thing we’ve ever had to face. The funds will go toward her funeral, memorial service, and everything needed to give our daughter the farewell she deserves.
Even if you cannot donate, sharing this page or simply keeping Milani’s name in your prayers means the world to us. Every bit of support helps during this time of unimaginable loss.
Thank you for reading Milani’s story, for supporting us, and for helping us celebrate the short but meaningful life of our baby girl.
Milani, Mom and Dad love you forever. Your spirit lives on, and we will carry you in our hearts every single day.