(quick warning - this one's probably not appropriate for children.) Allow this grieving dad one last request for strength y'all. Sadie is almost home. We have a time now: 1:00 am tonight they will remove her organs, and they informed us she will be saving 4 lives between her heart, liver, and two kidneys. (The late hour is due to expediency and due to accommodating logistics of surgeons that need to helicopter in and then helicopter back out to get organs to the lives they're meant to save) The Burn ICU here at the Doctor's Hospital has been so kind and gracious and helpful to us in our darkest hour and I'm very grateful to them. There's something I'm struggling with so hard right now. I promised my girl that I would walk her home. I know brain activity is gone but her body is still on life support - lungs still breathing (with the help of a ventilator) and heart still beating (with the help of medication). It feels like she's still there. Now I'd be lying if I said somewhere down deep I wasn't hoping that Sadie would miraculously move right before surgery, but I've allowed myself to let go of clinging to that hope. My main concern is the promise that I had made to my daughter: that I would walk her home. I always pictured this as holding her hand until the final breath or the final heart beat, whichever happened last. Unfortunately, with the organ donation, the moment Sadie beats her last heartbeat is on the operating table as they extract it from her. After researching what I could, I made the call that I could handle being in that room and holding my little girl's hand for that fateful last moment - if they would allow me. I made this request to the staff multiple times. Each time I prefaced with my expectations were set appropriately: I knew policies likely wouldn't allow this, and the absolute last thing I wanted was for my presence or an outburst to disrupt the extraction process and ruin Sadie's last heroic act. But I had promised my girl I would walk her to the door. And I'm ready to do exactly that. As it stands, they will let me walk my girl to the door of the operating room, but for very many obvious reasons I won't be allowed in. I've asked to be as physically close to her body as possible until the process is complete, and it sounds like they will honor that request. I'm having a hard time coming to terms, but I'm determined to act tonight in a way that I can look back on this night and be proud of my actions (and obviously my daughter's), and that I can honor my promise to my daughter to walk her to the door. Please - pray for me.

A quick update on Sadie: Doctors just informed us that it appears that the blood flow to Sadie's brain seems to have stopped in the middle of the night. We're doing a test to determine brain death later this morning. Thank you to everyone that has reached out with sweet things to say about my baby girl. I love you all 💙 Please pray for a miracle now for Sadie. This may be her final hour with us.