Each day brings a new update, a new breath of hope, and sometimes, a new challenge. But for little Kaidence, every small victory is a miracle — one that her mother meets with both trembling hands and unwavering faith.

Today’s update is one of gratitude and cautious joy. Kaidence’s tummy is tolerating her feeds again — 1mL every three hours. It might not sound like much, but for this tiny warrior, it’s a milestone. Her fragile stomach, once so delicate and prone to setbacks, is finally showing signs of strength.

Her surgical team isn’t rushing anything. They’ve decided to keep her feeds steady, allowing her body to adjust and heal. Most importantly, her ultrasounds show no more signs of NEC (necrotizing enterocolitis)— a dangerous intestinal condition that every parent of a premature or medically fragile baby fears.

“Praise God,” her mother wrote, tears of relief in every word. “He’s brought my baby so far.”

Now, the next step begins — the DART treatment, short for Dexamethasone: A Randomized Trial, a powerful steroid used to help premature infants strengthen their lungs and reduce dependence on ventilators. For Kaidence, whose tiny chest has worked so hard just to breathe, this treatment could be a turning point.

Still, her mother’s heart is filled with both hope and fear. “Anytime they start her on something new, I get scared,” she admitted. “I just don’t know how her little body will react. But my faith in God prevails.”

Doctors have explained that DART can cause side effects — temporary weight loss, slowed growth — but the benefits can be life-changing. For babies like Kaidence, stronger lungs mean fewer machines, more freedom, and a step closer to holding on without tubes or wires.

“I am so grateful for her team,” her mom wrote. “The nurses, the surgeons, the doctors — they are incredible. But I also know that God is the one in control here. Medicine saves lives, but my faith tells me Who gives them breath.”

It’s not always easy to hold that balance — between the miracles of science and the miracles of faith. Yesterday, someone left a comment on her post that cut deep:‘Please let the doctors do what they need to do for her. Don’t rely on God. It won’t end well.’

Her response was calm, but full of conviction. “It’s so hard to explain to people who only believe in medicine that while her medical team is doing everything they can,my God is the one who is in control. His will is the reason my baby girl is still here.”

She’s right. Faith and medicine don’t have to be at odds — they often work hand in hand. The skill of doctors and the strength of prayer can both be lifelines. And for Kaidence’s family, both are sacred.

“I would never take away from the importance of what her doctors and nurses do,” she said softly. “They are angels in scrubs. But my faith is my anchor. God’s hands are the ones holding us all — the doctors, the nurses, and my baby girl.”

In a world that often demands proof before it believes, her story stands as a gentle reminder that some of the most powerful evidence of hope can’t be measured on a monitor. It’s seen in a mother’s eyes, in a baby’s tiny heartbeat, in a prayer whispered over an incubator.

As Kaidence rests tonight, surrounded by machines humming like lullabies, her mom sits by her side, praying quietly. She thanks God for another day — for steady heartbeats, for peaceful breaths, for nurses who love her baby like their own.

She prays for the DART treatment to work, for strength in Kaidence’s lungs, for protection over her fragile body. And above all, she prays for peace — the kind that only faith can bring when fear tries to take over.

“God, please continue to hold my family, the nurses, the surgical team, and doctors in Your hands,” she wrote. “I am relying on You.”

And then she looks at her daughter — tiny, brave, still here.

“Look how far He has brought my baby girl.” 🕊️

Because sometimes, miracles don’t happen all at once. Sometimes, they unfold drop by drop — 1mL at a time.