On what started as an ordinary day, our world was changed in an instant.

My wife Katara and our two sons — Jayson, 10, and Jaymes, 6 — were in a serious car accident that left our family’s lives turned completely upside down.

By the grace of God, our youngest, Jaymes, walked away with scratches and bruises. We hold onto that gratitude every single day.

Katara suffered two broken wrists and a badly injured ankle. She is healing, but the road is long.

Our son Jayson bore the heaviest burden of all.

This bright, curious, beautiful 10-year-old boy — who loves learning, asks big questions about the world, and has the kind of laugh that fills a room — suffered injuries that no child should ever have to face. An aortic dissection at the bifurcation of his hip. Crushed intestines that had to be surgically removed. A large hernia. A laceration to his forehead that reached his skull. And fractures to his L3 and L4 vertebrae that required surgical fusion.

Jayson was placed in a medically induced coma for a week and a half following his first round of surgeries.

Let that sink in for a moment. A 10-year-old boy. A week and a half.

He has since stabilized — and if you know anything about Jayson, you know that fighter spirit is absolutely his. He has been moved to the inpatient rehabilitation floor at Prisma Children’s Hospital in Richland, South Carolina, where he now faces weeks — possibly months — of intensive physical and occupational therapy every single day.

We are grateful beyond words that he is alive. We tell him that every single morning.

But keeping a 10-year-old boy’s spirit lifted inside a hospital room, day after day, while his body works harder than it ever has — that is its own kind of battle. We fight that battle too, every day, with everything we have.

Little Jaymes, age 6, escaped the crash with his body mostly intact — but no 6-year-old should have to watch his mother and big brother be rushed away in ambulances. He is brave in the way that only little ones can be, carrying more than he should have to, asking when his brother is coming home.

We don’t have a perfect answer for him yet. But we are working toward one every single day.

I am a husband, a father of two remarkable boys, and an echocardiogram sonographer — someone who has spent his career looking at hearts. Right now the only heart I can think about is my son’s. And my family’s.

The medical bills from multiple surgeries, an induced coma, ICU care, and now weeks of inpatient rehabilitation are more than our family can bear alone. We are not asking for a miracle — Jayson is already our miracle. We are simply asking for help carrying the weight of what comes next.

Every dollar donated goes directly toward Jayson’s medical care, rehabilitation, and recovery. Every share of this page puts his story in front of someone who might be moved to help.

If you’ve ever believed that community can hold a family up when they cannot stand on their own — this is that moment for us.

For Jayson. For Katara. For Jaymes. For our family.

Thank you for seeing us.