Thank you for taking the time to read this.

I’m Rebecca, a longtime friend of Mila’s family and I’m writing because I have watched, up close, what love looks like when it has to be brave every single day.

Two years ago, so many of you stepped into that love with them. You carried Mila and her family through a season that felt impossibly heavy. Your generosity didn’t just pay bills, it created space for Felicia to be fully present at her child’s bedside, to breathe, to hope, and to keep going. That support has never been forgotten.

Since that first campaign, Mila has lived a life marked by both extraordinary medical complexity and extraordinary joy. She has endured more hospital walls than most of us ever will. She has also grown into a child with grit, humor, and a radiant will to thrive and defy expectations. Every smile she gives feels hard-won and precious.

Right now, Mila is once again fighting for her life at Stanford Children’s Hospital. What began as a low-grade fever turned quickly into a critical situation. Her medical team is doing everything possible but the road ahead is uncertain and long.

Here is the quiet, practical reality beneath the heartbreak: whenever Mila is hospitalized, Felicia’s income stops entirely. There is no partial pay, no remote work, no “working from the hospital.” Expenses climb easily: travel to Stanford, parking, meals, hotel nights when needed, missed work, and mounting medical and therapy costs. Even the most careful planning can’t absorb months of this.

And there is another major transition approaching. In six months, Mila will age out of Early Intervention, meaning the therapies and medical intensives that help her breathe, move, communicate, and rebuild strength after setbacks will largely become out-of-pocket costs, often $2,000–$3,000 per month. For a child as medically fragile as Mila, these supports are not optional; they are essential to her quality of life and recovery. In addition to these costs, Felicia also supports a household for herself and her two daughters, and that comes with all the typical bills and costs we all face.

For this reason, we have set a goal of $15,000. Not because we expect perfection or certainty… but because a cushion can mean the difference between panic and presence. It can mean Felicia can stay at Mila’s bedside when she needs to be there, and still keep a stable home for her other daughter. It can mean choosing care instead of stress, love instead of logistics.

Below is Felicia’s own update, in her words, about what Mila is facing right now.

Two years ago, you all rallied and lifted us up in ways that have carried us through.

Back then, Mila was dealing with a paraesophageal hernia, micro and retrognathia w/ trismus, bilateral hearing loss, a small Atrial Septal Defect, hydronephrosis, and unexplained hypotonia.

When she came home at three months, they had repaired her hernia and added a Gtube (later converted to a GJ), stretched her jaw a bit so she could open her mouth (about 2 cm), and was fitted for hearing aids and learning ASL. Both her kidneys and heart are stable and being monitored once a year.

We've been on quite a diagnostic odyssey with our girl when it comes to her neuromuscular weakness. We now know Mila is one of one in two ways. The trismus (inability to open her mouth fully) , and her presentation of weakness. Both conditions are being monitored for any potential future intervention. And we support her needs at home based on the limitations she faces.

Life has been busy and full, with Mila having an average of 7 appointments a week. She has more grit and reaches for joy more often than anyone I know.

Mila and I have lived inpatient for about a year out of the two and a half years of her life.

And I'm beyond grateful for every moment we've spent at home with her sister.

While we've had a few shorter hospitalizations and continue to be on concurrent hospice, we've had a good stretch of time at home in the last year.

Until now.

On Tuesday, January 27th, after a few days with a low grade fever, Mila woke up smiling but then began to work pretty hard to breathe. She was admitted briefly to the PICU locally to stabilize her before being airlifted by the critical care team back up to Stanford. We arrived at 4am and Mila was intubated by 11am. It was a really complicated intubation and Mila has what they consider a critical airway currently.

We now know she has human metapneumovirus, pneumonia, streptococcal pneumoniae, and pseudomonas. A few days ago, they also confirmed she has sepsis. Due to her underlying neuromuscular condition and how the weakness contributes to her respiratory status, the road to recovery is tricky.

Mila has quite a few things stacked against her and it's been difficult to watch her endure so much yet again. We are clinging to hope and faith, and believing that Mila will be able to make a full recovery.

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How You Can Help

If you are able, any contribution, large or small, will make a real difference. Funds raised will go toward:

If you can’t give financially, sharing this page is a gift in itself. Mila’s village has always been her greatest medicine.

Thank you for loving this family, for remembering them, and for standing with them again.