Support Tate and Emily Miller & Be #BraveLikeBrady

This page is being started on behalf of Tate and Emily Miller to support them in a time of great need: need of prayers, need of support, need of encouragement.

If you have followed their journey so far with baby Brady, you know that this is a tough little guy going through a challenging first year of life. Very recently, Brady was admitted with complications from his tumor. They expect to be in the hospital for a month or greater. Please consider supporting with your prayers but also financially as you are able as they navigate time without work, hospital bills, travel, and any other unexpected expenses.

Here is Emily’s most recent Facebook update:

This is a super vulnerable post, but I feel like I need to share the tough days, too. This is real life, real trauma, and it’s been our worst nightmare. On January 18th, Brady started having trouble breathing at night. Even though his tumor was stabilized, we knew this might happen because his airway was already so narrow. By January 20th, we decided to head to Cooks because things weren’t improving. They tested him for RSV, flu, and COVID, all of which came back negative, and his breath sounds were normal. A CT scan to check on the tumor showed SHRINKAGE, which had us all ecstatic—his medical team, our family—we finally felt a sense of relief and even told the twins that Brady was getting better and wouldn’t have to visit the doctor as much.

However, Brady continued to struggle with his breathing at night. We started using oxygen at home, in addition to his regular air purifier and humidifier. His doctors prescribed Zyrtec, Flonase, and Prevacid to tackle his possible acid reflux and possible allergies in the evenings, but nothing seemed to help. I lost all my sleep, sitting up with him throughout the night. He would sit straight up every few minutes; though his oxygen levels were fine, he was still STRUGGLING to breathe. After a visit with his oncologist on Thursday, we discussed everything and decided together to admit him. She scheduled a repeat CT and a sleep study. Tate thought Brady might be allergic to our cat, while I suspected mono due to a very swollen lymph node he had—who could blame us for speculating? ‍♀️ Less than two weeks prior, we had been told the tumor was shrinking, so we couldn't imagine that now it would be something worse.

Fast forward again, and he didn’t pass the sleep study, which was a whole saga of its own. The nurses and his doctors witnessed his distress while sleeping. The next morning, I got an alert on my phone about the CT results before the doctors had even rounded. The radiology report was chilling—it stated that the tumor was growing rapidly and that what we thought was a swollen lymph node was actually an extension of the tumor. My heart sank. Tate and I read the report multiple times, grappling with the grim reality. After many emotional breakdowns and trying to advocate for our son, the doctors quickly developed a plan. He was being moved to the PICU, and it was happening immediately. I held Brady close as they wheeled us down the hall, and the plan was relayed to us in the elevator.

Immediate intubation, MRI, biopsy. I placed him gently on the bed, sang him a song amidst the chaos, and Tate and I kissed him goodbye as they took him out of the room. He was in the back for what felt like forever, but I know it was at least five hours.

Intubation ✅

MRI ✅

Biopsy ✅

The fear was that the tumor had changed and turned malignant. While we only have the initial lab results back, thankfully they look similar to the original biopsy results. We still don’t fully understand what changed, but I have some theories that the doctors are seriously considering. His natural airway has disappeared—the tumor has taken over. I have no idea how he was managing to breathe during the day. He had his first true chemotherapy infusion last night, and we’ll continue this weekly for the next 11 months. He’s scheduled for a tracheotomy on Wednesday, and they’ll wake him up five to seven days later. The thought of not seeing his bright eyes, his scrunched-up nose, or his toothy grin for almost two weeks is indescribable. But Brady is a fighter. He has so much love and support around him, and we need that to keep flowing. We could really use all the positivity, love, prayers, and check-ins. It’s essential to help make this as easy as possible for the twins. The guilt I feel about not being with them is overwhelming. I need everyone to call upon God because, truthfully, I'm struggling with that right now. I'll do my best to keep everyone updated, but it’s tough. Please feel free to reach out to our friends, and they’ll inform you as they can.

A heartfelt thank you to our pediatrician, Dr. Rose, and her incredible team for advocating for us and providing the best care for Brady at home. I’m grateful to all our friends and family who have stepped up immediately, to everyone who has reached out, and to anyone who has ever offered a prayer for Brady. Please keep them coming. Pray for the doctors, the surgeons, the nurses, and the techs.

(And if you’re curious about how I’m managing to write this and seem somewhat composed, it’s thanks to medication. Without it, I’d be a puddle on the floor.)

I've never posted a picture like this before but this is our reality. There's no sugar-coating it.