The last two days have been the hardest of my life. On Sunday night, I gave my six-week-old daughter, Camilla, a bath, fed her, and laid her down for the night. I expected to wake again in a few hours—but at 1:15 a.m., I jolted awake with a deep sense that something was wrong.
When I checked on her, she wasn’t breathing. Her body was cold, limp, and lifeless. I panicked, screaming her name as her dad rushed in, holding her and begging for a sign she was still with us. But she didn’t move. It felt like time stopped.
And then, somehow, she stirred. Color returned to her cheeks. She took a breath.
We rushed her to Arkansas Children’s Hospital. After countless tests, doctors found no explanation—no heart issue, no breathing disorder. The diagnosis: a B.R.U.E. (Brief Resolved Unexplained Event).
We don’t know how she came back—but I believe it was a miracle. SIDS is real, but I also believe God is greater. I’ve never shared something this raw, but I needed to say it: my baby stopped breathing… and came back to life.
