"Mommy, I want some ice cream." My son walked up to me as I was getting off the phone with the doctor in charge of my daughter's treatment.It was the same news. No improvement. She was still as still as dead... almost dead.

I swallowed my pain and faced my other child who needed his mother.

I was proud of how he was handling this whole thing. Twice I'd heard him pray with Nanny Nancy, asking God to heal Zaya and I always begged God to listen to the prayers of my baby boy.

"But you just ...