One Miracle, Please : Alyx Dominguez, 3, Needs a New Liver . . . Again. Her Family, Friends and Neighbors Are Rallying to Her Side Once More.

They are getting ready for another neighborhood meeting in Trabuco Canyon’s Portola Hills. Flyers are being put in mailboxes, as a reminder to come. To accommodate tight schedules,the time has been set for 7 a.m. The agenda is simple: One miracle, please.

“The last time the neighbors got together to pray for Alyx, the blood started flowing into her liver,” says resident Kathleen Hamer. “The doctors didn’t know why. They called it a mysterious supply.”

Alyx Dominguez, 3 years old, wants another chance at life, one with bicycle rides and lunches at McDonald’s and horsing around with her sisters, a life that defines being a kid.

Her family, friends and neighbors want this for Alyx even more, but they can only do so much to make that come to pass. This is the excruciatingly difficult part. Only so much . They don’t like the way that sounds.

So they try to keep busy, struggling with the emotional swings. They drop off dinners at the Dominguez home, they bring presents, run errands, and they never give up hope. Prayers for Alyx bring them together; religious affiliations don’t count.

But it’s the children who usually cut to the heart. Alyx’s sisters, Morgan, 11, and Erin, 8, ask their mom point-blank: “Is Alyx going to die?”

“I don’t lie to them,” says Becky Dominguez. “I tell them the odds are more in favor of her living, if she gets a transplant.”

Alyx needs a liver transplant, her third, right away. She’s been waiting close to five months, and now her doctors at UCLA Medical Center classify her need as Category Four, the most critical stage.

They say that if a liver becomes available, they will make it work, even if they have to cut it down to make it fit.

“Just write a story and tell people,” Kathleen Hamer asks. Maybe the right person will see.

Alyx is in the pediatric intensive care unit of Long Beach’s St. Mary Medical Center now. This is where her mother works as a pediatric nurse, although she is on leave so that she can nurse her own child.

She stays with her round-the-clock, sharing Alyx’s bed when she sleeps.

Alyx has been here for more than a week, hooked up to mobile machinery that has taken over most of the functioning of a liver that is shutting down. Before, there was always the hope that her condition would stabilize and she could go home.

Now her mother says there is no chance of that. Only a transplant can save her child.

Alyx was born with a condition called biliary atresia, of unknown cause, but the effect is that bile doesn’t drain properly and the liver eventually dies. Although the condition itself is rare, most children who need liver transplants suffer from it. Survival rates with a transplant are remarkably high, however, about 80%.

But Alyx, a chatty little girl who adores Minnie Mouse, hasn’t been as lucky as most. She had her first transplant at the age of seven months, the second in May. Now, those who love her are forced to play a terrifying numbers game.

“Did the platelet count come back yet?” Becky asks a nurse who has come to change a bag of solution being pumped through Alyx’s veins.

“It’s a preliminary 27,” the nurse says.

This passes for good news.

A normal blood platelet count ranges from 160 to 400, but for Alyx, dropping to 20 will probably mean massive internal bleeding, and most likely, death.

“This is the biggest danger,” Becky says. “And the thing is, it’s very unpredictable. The bleeding could start before that. You just don’t know. We’ve been sitting here, 25, 25, 27. We are hanging on the brim.”

This mother’s eyes redden with tears and her fingers clutch at the bedclothes as she fights for control. She will not let herself think of her daughter’s death, she says, describing a physical sensation of “closing off.” Her hand reaches for her throat.

“I’m just trying to get through this, for Alyx,” she says. “And for my family. A lot of families break up over things like this, but Alyx has been cement for us.”

She is not angry, only afraid.

“I think God cries for Alyx as much as I do,” she says.

Tony Dominguez, a Los Angeles County firefighter, has taken to wearing a beeper, because if a donated liver is found, his daughter must be transported to UCLA Medical Center within two hours. During the last transplant, it was Becky who served as the transport nurse.

The family is grateful for all the help it has received. Last month, the Make-a-Wish Foundation flew them all to Disney World, per Alyx’s request.

Mothers in the neighborhood drive Erin and Morgan Dominguez to and from school. Their aunt has stood in for Becky in meeting with their teachers, who have told the girls that if it all becomes too much, they can just let a night of homework go.

Recounting all this, Becky’s eyes begin to cloud once more. It feels good, yet it hurts so much.

“You know, you hear about so many bad things in the world, but when you are in a situation like this, you run into the cream of the crop,” she says. “And it’s everybody. People just rise to the occasion.”

And, if the transplant comes and Alyx improves, what excitement does the family have planned? Becky says she hadn’t thought about that, but assumes it would have to be a trip to Disneyland, Alyx’s favorite place.

“Hey, that’s what I’ll tell her when she wakes up!” Becky says. “Good idea!”

This mother’s face is changing now, her eyes are brightening and her back straightens too. I saw this earlier, when she was talking about what it was that she wanted for her daughter: just a normal life.