Precerpt from Raising God's Rainbow Makers: Lizzies vs the Red Cross
Doah’s tracheotomy changed everything. With that tiny tube in place, he could finally breathe more easily and more continuously. Our world narrowed to one primary concern: keeping the airway clear. Plugs were our nemesis, but I learned to manage them, and for a while, that was enough. Then came the day he decannulated himself—far too early, far too suddenly, and entirely by accident. I’ve written about that moment before: the shock, the scramble, the impossible calm that mothers somehow summon when the stakes are highest. Because he was able to breathe on his own, the doctor made the call not to re‑trach him. Instead, he looked at me with a seriousness that settled deep into my bones and said, “Keep your CPR skills sharp. You’re going to need them until he grows and the subglottic stenosis takes up less of his airway.” He was right. I used those skills more often than any mother should ever have to. The hardest part wasn’t the CPR itself. It was the fact that when Donnie was at w...
