Home | Charis Buckland

We went ahead and took him to the ER Thursday, April 30, to get him admitted. That way he could work on nutrition and check his overall health. Praise the Lord that night, neurosurgery let us know they would put a shunt in the next morning. That Thursday night, we had a peaceful night eating supper in the ER room with him, watching The Andy Griffith Show. It always helps me feel better. While waiting for a regular room or PICU room, I asked for a PICU room since we know a friend who works on that floor. Thankfully we were put in a room in the PICU that night and we moved up around 10 p.m. We met his doctor and nurses for the evening and they said it would be a quiet night. I was looking forward to sleep actually, since I hadn’t slept much in months, but especially the past week. Brett went to grab our overnight bag out of the car, while the nurses finished tucking him in his bed for the night.

One nurse spoke to him and said, “Don’t do that, Mr. Griffin.” The other nurse walked over and said the same thing. Their faces changed and I immediately knew something was wrong. They grabbed an oxygen mask, which only lasted a few seconds, one asked if they wanted to “hit it,” to which she said, “Do it,” and people came running from everywhere. I left the room to get out of the way, my face in my hands in disbelief. The Code cart was run down the hallway and pushed into his room. People came from everywhere. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and knew that this is when God was going to take him home. After months of praying and making it after birth, then deciding to drain the fluid, this is how it would all end. His nurse practitioner sat with me to describe what they were doing. They had to put a breathing tube in and he was hooked up to more monitors than I can count. 

The alarms I heard that night still make me anxious when I hear them. Two more times throughout the night, the lights came on and many medical professionals stood around his bed to be sure he made it to surgery. The neurosurgeons came for his little panda warmer bed to wheel him out of his room down to the surgery floor. The softies and stuffed animals from friends and family accompanied him as they wheeled him out of the room and around the corner. I physically hurt as I watched him leave. Thank you so much for praying for him that day – so many people all over the world were on their knees for him. I was thankful just to get text alerts of his surgery progress because I knew he was still alive.

During those frightening two hours, I was on the dirty floor of a Vanderbilt bathroom begging God to save his precious life. The text he was moving back up to his room to recover from surgery came through and my feet wouldn’t carry me fast enough to get to his room to see him. His sweet head looked amazingly normal and not swollen as before.

Seeing him sedated was heartbreaking. I was able to read books to him and sing to him. Sunday morning, Brett had to work at church, so I stayed with him. Sadly, I had to ask to hold him since birth due to all the machines he was attached to. The respiratory therapist said I could hold him when she returned from rounds, but stopped and allowed me to hold him right then. I’m so thankful for that. I held him that morning in a rocker for three hours. My hips hurt from sitting still for so long, but we rocked and sang to Phil Wickham most of the morning until he had to go back to his bed. 

After neurosurgery, we remained in the hospital for eight days. We prayed over his room, over the doors to the PICU, and for anyone who entered his room. The struggle between good and evil is real. God created life and values it and the enemy wants to destroy anything of God and anything that is good. Revelation 12 reminds me act the enemy is at war with mommies and children. They are the fighters raising the next generation to love and serve God. He was able to have his breathing tube removed and eventually went to a different floor where he was monitored and discharged on Friday, May 8. 

Let me shout out to the sweet people from church who went to sit with him and rock him when we were unable to be with him. It showed God’s love and gave him dignity and it means more than words can say. I noticed a kind nurse had turned on “Cars” on his tv when we returned from home one evening. The next time I left, I turned on “Fievel” for him and asked a nurse if she would turn on another movie for him if that one went off. The sweet nurse said, “Sure, what does he like?” Oh, my heart…how kind. 

His last nurse hummed the song, “Halle” by Phil Wickham as we had his music playing from the iPad all day every day. I was able to share his story with her and the miracles we had seen from God all through his life thus far. She said from his paperwork, she expected nothing from him, but he clearly was watching people and moving around as perfectly healthy newborns do.

I carried him proudly out the door of that hospital and into the doors of his home where he was greeted with kisses and cuddles and even some rough brother hugs. I remembered this view of the hospital six months before where we had a bleak outlook on his life. This day, we had hope. I had no idea we didn’t have even a month left with him. 

I was so thankful he made it home in time for Mother’s Day!

We went to many appointments and he had physical therapy at home where he shocked the therapist with his ability to move and had no medications. We were relieved to know that he had mild hearing loss and would be fitted for a hearing aid headband in the fall. It was a relief to also know he had vision and it was not even a concern. His physical body was actually healthy after all, regarding heart, lungs, stomach, and kidneys. 

We went to the pool, visited Swig to celebrate the end of school, attended church, and my favorite part: held him on the couch when all the other children are asleep in the stillness of the night. 

I was able to take his one month photo!

We loved eating lunch outside!

I was able to make him an outfit for Memorial Day like everyone else!

He also took part in the mini photoshoot I do for every occasion – sorry buddy, just part of being your mom!

The first week of June, Brett went to serve as camp pastor at camp in Miss. Monday through Friday. We took Griffin to our favorite local coffee trailer, went back home, and off he went for the week. I can’t explain it, but the atmosphere at home was heavy that day. We were getting ready for ballet recitals and it should have been pretty chill. That night, talking to Brett on the phone, I verbalized that I was so tired, I just needed to lie down. Usually I can push through fatigue, but I just couldn’t do anymore. I hadn’t slept much because he was a newborn, with balancing the bigger children with appointments all over, trying to get specialist appointments, and my heart simply watching his struggles. 

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself calling an ambulance. Griffin was not responsive. Thankfully, no children were awake even though four were in my room with him since they sleep with my when Brett is gone. In those moments, holding my sweet baby, I have never felt so alone. I was reminded by a friend that even Jesus felt alone as he prayed in the garden and anticipated being crucified for us. The sin and brokenness of this world can really turn our hearts toward heaven where we won’t do heartache anymore. 

They took him to the closest emergency room where I was told they had done all they could do. I hear the news in a room alone since Brett was driving back five hours at that moment. It was the worst day of my entire life. Praise God for our friends nearby and church family who came to sit with me and helped me navigate funeral arrangements. I didn’t have to sit alone. 

I miss my sweet boy. I value life more now than I ever did before. I see children with hearing aids and I would give anything to have my boy to put hearing aids on. What the world views as “perfect” isn’t necessarily God’s view of perfection. Griffin may have need to have surgery to give him ears, but he was perfect. Every life is valuable and everyone deserves a chance at life. 

You know, some children bring inconveniences, but nobody is an inconvenience. Griffin’s feeding tube was frustrating and quite tedious at times, but I would do it again right now. Every baby is a blessing. 

In my humanity, I struggle with seeing other people and their babies and I ask why I didn’t get to keep mine? Why can’t I hold mine? Why did he have to struggle? Why couldn’t God do a miracle the way I asked and heal Griffin here on earth. 

I am angry because I am sad. One of my friends is Sunday School pointed out we can be frustrated or angry, but where else would she go but God? I would love to take my toys and play somewhere else, but really, where am I going to go? 

I suppose this is where we defiantly praise God anyway. We might be mad, but read our Bibles anyway. We might be hurt beyond words but sing those songs to God anyway. When we don’t have words, we can tell God that. This year, 2026, has been full of heartache. I have lost count of how many times I have whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.” God has been with me in rooms nobody knew I cried and prayed in. There have been tears I cried that nobody saw except God. 

Isn’t it interesting to remember that David commanded his soul to praise the Lord? Let’s be honest, we don’t always feel like praising God. We can’t wait for the feelings to be there, because if we do, we will only worship when life is grand, and feelings will dictate our behavior. Our worship isn’t really about our feelings or what is going on in our lives. Sometimes life just doesn’t make sense and it feels like everything is crumbling at the same time. 

Trusting him doesn’t look like no fear and jumping out of bed in the morning, ready to embrace the day. It might look more like crying and taking to God about the same thing again. It might involve struggling and lamenting. In all of these emotions believing somehow that He will work it out because He is ultimately our only hope. 

Galatians 6:9 says, “Let us not get tired of doing good, for we will reap at the proper time if we don’t five up.” Seasons of uncertainty can leave us feeling useless and we can isolate. Let’s keep our eyes on Jesus so we don’t give up and continue to what God has for us.

Let’s not listen to the enemy’s lies that say God doesn’t care or He is not listening, or He has no good plans for us. We have freedom. After all, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free” (Galatians 5:1).

Love you friends,
Charis 

Pic(k) of the week: When ya have matching shirts and you’re saying goodbye to the school year…