It’s go time in Rome, Italy. Today is the day.

After a year of tears, fear, and relentless fight, today marks the most critical moment yet for 11-year-old Branson Blevins of Robertsdale, Alabama. At 1 p.m. CT, doctors will begin infusing the stem cells that could save his life. For Branson, who has battled Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia with unimaginable courage, this is the moment everything has been building toward — the bone marrow transplant that holds the promise of remission.

Those life-saving cells come from his mother, Nichole. On Friday, she underwent the grueling process of donation, a sacrifice she described in raw and emotional words.

“Well… it’s done. One of the biggest moments we’ve been holding our breath for is finally behind us,” she wrote. “Branson will always be the spotlight. This is his story, his miracle unfolding, but today I need to share a glimpse of what it has taken to get him here.”

For five days, Nichole endured twelve painful growth factor shots to force her bone marrow into her bloodstream. The side effects were brutal: body aches, crushing fatigue, headaches that left her reeling. On collection day, 13.5 liters of blood cycled through her body as doctors harvested the cells that will now flow into her son.

“To say I am drained would be the understatement of my life,” Nichole admitted. “Midway through, I had a panic attack and thought I was going to pass out. And I know it wasn’t just my body reacting, it was the weight of a year spent in fight-or-flight mode, shoving emotions down just to survive, finally colliding with the reality that this moment has finally arrived.”

Even then, in the middle of her pain, it was Branson who worried most about her. “All week long, he’s checked on me, asked me if I’m okay,” she shared. “When he’s the one who has endured endless pain for an entire year. That’s just who he is — even in his suffering, his heart is still fixed on others.”

Nichole’s words also honor her husband, Donald, who has quietly carried the heaviest of burdens. “He has carried so much on his shoulders, quietly, so we could all keep going. Today, after collection, he and I switched out so I could finally go back to our apartment and try to rest. He’ll stay with Branson, as he always does, steady and strong, even when the weight is crushing.”

And then there are Branson’s siblings, Maddox and Magnolia, who have endured a sacrifice of their own — separation, loneliness, and the pain of watching their family divided between continents. “Their bravery is quieter, but no less heroic,” Nichole wrote.

Living thousands of miles from home, the Blevins family has faced every step of this fight in a country where they don’t speak the language, where Nichole has often undergone procedures without her husband by her side, without anyone to hold her hand. That kind of isolation, she admits, “carves its own kind of scar.”

Yet every ache, every tear, and every ounce of suffering has brought them to this day. “At around 2 PM, they will infuse my cells into Branson’s body,” Nichole wrote. “That’s the step that will lock in his remission. That’s the moment we’ve clawed toward for a year. And I mean quite literally CRAWLED.”

Her plea is simple and urgent: “Please, please pray with us. Pray that Saturday is smooth, that his body receives those cells perfectly, that this is the final key to his healing. We are so close to the finish line we can taste it. And while the scars of this journey will never leave us, tomorrow is the doorway to life again. And I would do it all, a thousand times over, if it meant my son gets to live.”

As the transplant begins, Branson is hooked up not just to IV lines, but to the love and prayers of countless people following his journey. His story is a testament to the strength of family, the power of faith, and the miracles made possible when love refuses to give up.

Wherever you are today, pause for Branson. Pray for healing, for strength, and for a smooth infusion. Let’s lift this family together, believing that today marks the beginning of Branson’s comeback.

Because today is not just transplant day. It is the day hope flows directly into the veins of a little boy who deserves life.