This picture is one I will never forget. Kenzie was just 6 weeks old, and Adalynn was 2 and a half. Eager to capture a sweet sister moment, I set up a little scene, hoping to get a cute pose of the two girls together. I had Adalynn sit in her small chair and carefully placed Kenzie in her arms.

“Give her a kiss,” I said out loud. I assumed that Adalynn would give her baby sister a kiss on the head or, at most, on her cheek. Nope. Instead, Adalynn planted a big fat kiss right on Kenzie’s lips.

“Oh no!” I thought to myself. I quickly moved in and scooped Kenzie up. I explained to my oldest why we don’t kiss babies on the lips, and we moved on from there.

1 week later…

After Kenzie received her diagnosis of spinal meningitis, the next step was getting admitted.

(You can read all about the night she was diagnosed here: by clicking on the link below.)

My family had all been on standby, waiting to hear what the doctor had to say. As a result, I had a lot of phone calls to make. My first call was to my parents.

“Mom,” I started in a shaky voice, “Kenzie has men-men-meningitis.”

“What? Andrea, I couldn’t hear you. Say that again.” As I tried to get my emotions under control, I finally got the words out.

“Kenzie has meningitis.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the phone. I knew my words carried a heavy blow. Eventually, my mother broke the silence, went into mom mode, and asked, “OK, what’s the plan?” I shared that we were being admitted and that Kenzie would be receiving antibiotics through an IV.

Once the plan was communicated, it was time to make the next phone call. Before hanging up, my parents and I took a small moment to process what was happening.

“Oh my gosh,” I heard my mother say.

“I know, Mom,” I responded, tears bubbling up again.

“Oh my gosh,” she said again, this time with emotion in her voice. “Oh my gosh…Oh my gosh…Oh my gosh…” I could tell she didn’t want to say much more, but she didn’t have to. Saying the things swirling in our heads wasn’t helpful for either of us. So instead, we both kept our fears to ourselves.

My mom, usually full of wisdom and encouraging words, had none to offer me. So when I heard fear in her voice, it carried the same impact in my soul as the diagnosis did. I felt a crack in my core as the one woman who could get me through anything and everything displayed anxiety and worry over my daughter’s life.

It was widely understood that when a baby this young was this ill, the outlook wasn’t promising.

Clearing his throat from emotion, I finally heard my dad speak for the first time: “Hang in there, kiddo.” Then a pause. “Keep your faith up.”

“Keep your faith up…” Those words were hard to comprehend. However, I knew there was only one way we would get out of this situation, and while my faith was a lot smaller than a mustard seed, I still knew who I should be talking to about all of this.

The next phone call was to my sister. Sharing the news carried the same kind of blow, and the silence was once again deafening.

“She’s not going to die, Andrea. She’s going to make it.” I could hear peace in her voice and allowed it to rush over me for a fleeting moment; however, it was quickly cut off as a nurse entered the room, ready to admit us.

The next few hours were a whirlwind. Once admitted, the next thing was to hook Kenzie up to antibiotics. This was not ideal for a 7-week-old, but Kenzie was so exhausted from the day that they managed to stick the needle in her arm with just a small fight from her.

At one point during our stay, the IV came undone and a new one had to be placed in Kenzie’s head. This was a very traumatic experience as it took nearly an hour and a half to accomplish.

Hurt People Hurt People

We finally settled into our new reality as the rest of the world was waking up and starting their day. Ryan and I had called other loved ones by now, and group texts and phone calls were blowing up our phones.

Eventually, our first visitor stopped by to check on us. He leaned close to Kenzie with tears in his eyes and softly stroked her head while in my arms. He asked how she was doing and that he had shared our news with prayer groups. We thanked him, appreciating all the prayers we could get.

Ryan started to share a few things that the doctor had explained to us about the plan of action when suddenly, the visitor cut Ryan off and said—

“How the hell did she get meningitis?”

In that moment, it felt like I’d been hit by a bus. It wasn’t just what he said, but how he said it that completely blindsided me. Anger flared up as my defensive, prideful nature took over. Hearing those words come out of his mouth, I had to fight the urge to launch across the hospital bed and lash out. His lack of tact was so shocking and hurtful that my mind went completely blank, leaving me sitting there, stunned and speechless. In hindsight, it was probably for the best—nothing I could’ve said would have been helpful or kind.

When the visitor finally left, I vented my frustration to my husband, sharing just how much his words stung. I couldn’t see any good intentions behind what he said, especially since he’d ripped open the floodgates of mom guilt I’d already been battling. He had given a voice to the unspoken thoughts I feared everyone was having, and I felt crushed under the weight of blame.

How could I have let my baby get this sick?

The Week in the Hospital

The week spent in the hospital felt endless and draining, with every moment filled with uncertainty. Yet one thing became clear—Kenzie was getting better. Her fever began to drop, her appetite improved, and we started to see her energy return. Eventually, we received the reassuring news that her spinal meningitis was viral, not bacterial. This brought an immense sense of relief, and soon discussions about going home began.

Going Home

After six days in the hospital, we finally brought our baby home. That very same day, a canvas picture arrived—a gift I had ordered earlier to give out for Christmas. Seeing it stirred up overwhelming emotions, and I had to fight the urge to throw them all away. The intense mom-guilt tied to that image was something I was still grappling with, and revisiting those regrets took a real toll on my mental health.

The experience of spinal meningitis and the agonizing week of uncertainty—wondering whether my baby would survive—left a lasting mark on me. During that time, I let the enemy overwhelm my emotions, allowed chaos to drown out God’s voice, let worry overshadow my faith, and gave anxiety control instead of holding onto the promise of peace.

Sadly, it took years for peace to return to me after that moment… because back then, I didn’t yet understand what I know now.