The world is holding a lot of pain right now—not sure where my pain fits, but here it is: on Tuesday, my 15 month old Dani had a 50 minute long seizure.

A lot of parents unfortunately have a “before” & “after” moment—where things will never be the same. This is ours.

She had a 103 fever which spiked and caused the seizure. She was rushed to the ER and after a long 50 minutes, trauma doctors were able to stop the seizure.

CT scan, oxygen levels, & EEG show that she was able to breathe through the seizure, so we are praying for full recovery.

Last night I was forced to leave her in the hospital - I also have a fever. COVID19 protocols do not allow visitors, only legal guardians, and only healthy guardians.

No matter what, I will not be allowed to return.

She was tested for covid, but we don't think it's that.

I can't stop thinking about the residual trauma, collective PTSD, and heartbreak that will come from this pandemic.

The separation of not being able to be with loved ones during the darkest of times. Not being able to cry on shoulders of friends and family.

Telling a mother to leave her baby in the hospital. Which I did while scream crying, because I will #StayTheFHome.

But there are still people doing play dates, hanging out, and not taking this seriously.

Hold your people close, give as many hugs and love as you can. Check-in with all your people.

One thing I'm grappling with right now and I have no answers: virtual connection has been nice, I can feel the love.

But it's not a hug.

I'm going through the hardest moment of our lives and I will not be getting deep, to the bone hugs.

There are no shoulders to cry on.

No friends to rub their fingers through my hair.

It's hard to grasp, but we'll each know someone going through this, so try and hold it.