Heart disease has always just been part of my life.

I was born with a rare form of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM). When I was 2½, I had open-heart surgery at Mayo Clinic—a surgery that hadn’t been done before on a child that young. At the time, my heart was the size of an adult heart. My parents were given a lot of unknowns about what my future might look like, but they made the decision early on that they were going to let me just live my life. And if you know me, you know I’ve probably taken that advice a little too seriously.

I’ve spent most of my life trying not to let my heart disease define me. Most people wouldn’t even know I have it. But it’s always there—the medications, appointments, procedures, an ICD in my chest, and the constant awareness that my heart doesn’t work quite like everyone else’s. There isn’t a cure, and there are still a lot of questions without answers.

But through all of those unknowns, I’ve also always known Who does have the answers. God has been incredibly faithful throughout my story—placing the right people in my life at the right times, providing incredible doctors and medical care, and giving me a life that looked very different from what anyone could have promised my parents when I was a baby.

Then we had Lou.

At his one-month appointment, I sat through his echo and recognized something didn’t look right. The doctor came in and confirmed what I already feared: he had HCM too.

That changed heart disease for me.

I knew what it was like to be the kid with the scar. To sit through the appointments. To have to slow down when everyone else kept going. To wonder what my heart would let me do—and what it wouldn’t.

Now I was the mom.

And as much as I wish I could take this part of Lou’s story away, I know the same God who has carried me through every unknown is holding him too. I don’t know what his heart journey will look like, but I know we don’t walk it alone.

There’s a verse that has taken on a pretty literal meaning in our family:

“My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.”
— Psalm 73:26 (NIV)

This year, David and I are doing the Heart Walk together, and it feels especially meaningful to have his company, Enerpac supporting the American Heart Association, too.

I’m walking because research gave my parents options when I was little. It gave me a surgery that helped give me the chance to grow up, get married, have three kids, build a career, and live a pretty wonderfully normal life.

And now I want those options—and even better ones—for Lou.

But we aren’t just walking for the two hearts in our family.

We’re walking for the families sitting in doctors’ offices waiting for answers. For the parents trying to make decisions they never imagined they’d have to make. For the kids growing up with scars and limitations most people will never see. For those living every day with heart disease and wondering what comes next.

And we’re walking for the survivors who have made it to the other side and are using their stories to fight, advocate, raise awareness, and give hope to everyone still waiting. Because this story has never been just about me or just about Lou.

So I’m walking for my heart. I’m walking for Lou’s. I’m walking for the survivors. And I’m walking for every heart still waiting for answers.

There is still so much work to do—and so much hope for what comes next.