Medical Mom Monday - Cassie

I’m Cassie, the mother of McLain a brave 8 year old boy with the congenital heart defect called coarctation of the aorta and a bicuspid aortic valve. This diagnosis has come with countless complications, missed diagnoses, and what at times feels like never ending hospital visits. Ours is a story marked by pain, perseverance, and a fierce kind of love that’s hard to put into words.

Advice I’d give another family?

Let yourself feel it all. Don’t rush past the ache. Sit with it. Because if you allow the suffering to sanctify you, to shape you, you’ll discover a strength that’s rooted in something deeper than control, it’s rooted in surrender. And never forget: your voice matters. Advocate boldly. You are not “just” a mom. You are the most powerful force in the room. You know your child better than anyone. Trust that. Speak up. Speak often. And know that your presence, your nurturing touch, is healing in its own right.

The biggest challenge I’ve faced?

Honestly? It’s the weight of wondering if I’ve done enough. The ache of watching McLain fight battles he never asked for, while replaying moments I wish had gone differently. It’s living in the tension of grief and gratitude, of strength and softness. But even in those moments, I’ve found God in the quiet, in the machines beeping, in the waiting rooms, in the nights spent holding him with prayers in my breath and tears down my cheeks.

How do I balance it all?

Some days, I don’t. Some days it’s messy, loud, and soaked in tears. But I’ve learned that showing up imperfectly is still showing up. I anchor myself in grace, the same grace the Lord so generously extends to us as we navigate the weight and wonder of McLain diagnosis. We’ve witnessed what I can only describe as a severe mercy in his life, something sacred and sobering, all at once.

I’ve worked to create rhythms that hold space for McLain’s care while honoring the heartbeat of our whole family. I’ve learned that leaning on others doesn’t make me weak but in fact it makes me brave. That asking for help, and being vulnerable in the safety of trusted people, is its own kind of superpower. That rest is restoring. And that letting love lead us is the only way through.

One thing I know with my whole heart: fear is a thief. It will rob you of the present joy, of the holy moments tucked in the now. Some describe fear as the truest poverty and I believe that. I remember our life flight to Denver. Somewhere high above the clouds, it hit me with clarity: “Cassie, McLain is a child of God first.” He is on sacred loan to Gabe and I until the day the Lord calls him home.

That realization shattered the illusion of control and in its place, gave us peace. What we can control is how deeply we love him, how faithfully we raise him in the Word, and how fiercely we celebrate every single milestone. Every breath. Every day. Every smile. All of it is an undeserved gift.

This journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about presence. And when love is the motive, somehow grace upon grace we keep finding our way.