On November 26, 2017, it made sense why I was meant to stay with my daughter and not deploy. We were all just coming back to work from the Thanksgiving break. The morning routine went great; my daughter gets dropped off at daycare along with her feeding pump and her thickened formula. Everything seemed fine!
At around 10 a.m. that morning, I got a phone call from my office line (I could not bring my personal device into the office). “Our daughter had a febrile seizure during her feed; I am on my way over to the Child Development Center (CDC).”
My heart dropped! I was in shock, and I had no idea what to do. I told my supervisor what happened, rushed to my car, and was on my way to the CDC. Still in shock, I had no idea what was happening or what I could do.
Once I arrived at the CDC, her mom held her and calmed her down. The paramedics are taking her vitals and prepping her to be taken to the nearest military ER. Mom accompanied her to the ambulance, and I met them at the ER. I was still shaking and nervous, wondering why this was happening to her.
Why her God? Why not me?
We had no close support! It was us; not even the Exceptional Family Member Program was on our side (story for next week).
At Fort Belvoir Community Hospital, the doctors run some tests. Her doctor even came to visit to see how she was doing. After a few hours, we were told they would be transferred to Walter Reed Medical Center for further examinations.
Everything felt dark and gloomy like there was no way out of this. Work was supportive, but they still had to do things by the book, which made me even more frustrated.
All that frustration was bottled up, as was the dad, and I needed to keep my composure. What changed the way I viewed the situation was her beautiful smile! She was there on her bed, connected to a bunch of wires, and smiled at me. That little smile made it all worth it. It began to change the way I looked at life.
If an 11-month-old who’s been through so much already can still smile, why can’t I? The perspective changed; I couldn’t help but smile back at her and hold her. While at the hospital, we get a call from the CDC director. “Your daughter cannot return to the CDC until we complete the investigation. We are trying to look out for your daughter.” We are trying to look after your daughter was the biggest bag of crap coming out of that lady’s mouth.
“Our goal is to provide a safe and nurturing environment that promotes the physical, social, emotional, cognitive, and language development of children enrolled in the programs.”1 As of March 2025, the Quantico Child and Youth states that as their goal. It makes me wonder if that was the case in 2017. I found out why people referred to it as the MCCS Mafia.
1. https://quantico.usmc-mccs.org/marine-family-support/child-and-youth
Life with DiGeorge 
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