One Week Out: Burn Clinic Update for Our Brave Boy

Yesterday, we packed up and made our way to Mercy Hospital in Springfield, MO for Sawyer’s follow-up at the burn clinic. It’s hard to believe it’s already been a week since the accident that turned our world upside down — a moment that led to first, second, and third-degree burns on our baby boy.

We headed out around 10 a.m., trying to keep the morning as normal as possible. We ran a few errands and grabbed Sawyer’s favorite snack — Groovy Fries from Sonic (because comfort food helps, right?). About 30 minutes into the drive, he fell asleep in the back seat, his little body finally giving in to the exhaustion he’s been carrying all week.

He woke up just as we arrived, and after giving him his pain meds, we made our way upstairs to the clinic.

The good news? His chest is healing beautifully. The nurse told us we no longer need to bandage his abdomen — a small but meaningful relief. One less wound to tend to, one less area to hold our breath over.

But then there’s his foot. His poor, tender foot.

That’s where the healing is much slower. There’s still quite a bit of dead skin that I haven’t had the heart to remove during our nightly “de-shedding” baths — it’s just too much to watch him cry, to know I’m causing him pain, even if it’s for his own good.

Thankfully, his nurse offered to help and gently removed the rest of the dead skin since his pain meds had already kicked in. I agreed because deep down, I know how important it is — removing that skin could be the difference between recovery and surgery.

And yes… she said the big S-word: surgery.

It’s not off the table yet. But we’re hopeful. Now that the damaged skin is gone, we’re praying that blood flow improves and that his skin can begin the hard work of growing back on its own.

We go back next week. And with every ounce of my being, I’m hoping and praying for good news — that we’re moving forward without needing a skin graft, that we’ve made it through the worst of this.

Last night was rough. He didn’t sleep. He’s refusing to walk. And honestly? Mommy is running on fumes.

We are surviving — nothing more, nothing less. The past week has been a blur of pain, hospital visits, medications, and sleepless nights. I keep trying to remind myself that one day, we’ll look back on this. We’ll talk about how strong he was, how far we came, how this was just one chapter in our family’s story.

But right now? I just want out of this nightmare.

I don’t know how I would be holding it together without my fiancé and my future mother-in-law. They have shown up for me in every single way — emotionally, physically, practically. They’ve helped carry this weight when I felt like I couldn’t take another step. They’ve reminded me I’m not doing this alone.

Because I’ll be honest — I carry life heavy. When something happens to one of my kids, it doesn’t just break my heart. It shatters me. And yet, as a mom, you don’t get the option to fall apart. You don’t get to stay in bed or hit pause. You just keep going. Because they need you to.

This past week has reminded me of one hard truth:Parenting doesn’t ask for your strength — it demands it.

It takes every bit of your soul, your spirit, your body. And somehow, even when you feel like you have nothing left, you show up again.

So yes — it takes a village.And right now, I am so incredibly thankful for mine.

Hopefully next week, I’ll be writing a post with brighter news — no surgery, better sleep, healing underway. Until then, we’ll keep doing what we always do:

Showing up. Holding on.And loving our babies through the fire.