I was born with hypoplastic right ventricle with pulmonary atresia, a rare congenital heart defect. In layman’s terms, I am missing a quarter of my heart. I underwent three open heart surgeries at four days, seven months, and three years old. My final operation, in 2000, was named the Fontan Procedure. My life is a gift, given by the continued research done by the American Heart Association (AHA). 

I’ll admit: I wasn’t privy to how my condition affected me as a child. I learned, played, and acted like any normal child. Sure, having a cardiologist and doing tests was unusual, but I never was behind my siblings or peers. That’s a testament to the importance of scientific progress.

In 2001, my mother launched Austin’s Army, in my honor, to fundraise for the AHA. We participated for ten consecutive years, raising thousands. My grandparents often were in the thousandaire club, with a sign planted along the route. But, Jim Gregory, Grandpa, was a pillar of our efforts. He reminded me often how miraculous my life really is. He ended up passing away from heart failure last year. 

Years slip by, and life gets busier; I got married, earned two degrees, found steady work, and traveled the world. I’ve lived, loved, and sustained like any normal adult. I’m proactive in my health, and still go to Cincinnati Children’s. They follow Fontan survivors, where I’m expected to live a fulfilling life. I’m in steady health.

Yet, I haven’t participated in the Heart Walk in over 15 years. In 2026, I will turn 30. I want to lead Austin’s Army, remind myself to never take my life for granted, honor Grandpa’s memory, and fundraise for the organization who has done so much. It’s sure to be a milestone year.

Any donation, or participation, in this year’s events will be deeply appreciated. There are many yet-to-be-born children who’ll be lucky to live a life as beautiful as the one I’ve led. I’m excited that, as an adult, I can finally be one who truly contributes.