In the intensive care unit of BC Children’s Hospital in Vancouver, 12-year-old Maya Gebala—affectionately called “Maya Moon” by her devoted mother, Cia Edmonds—remains locked in a silent, relentless struggle for life. Eight days after the devastating mass shooting at Tumbler Ridge Secondary School on February 10, 2026, Maya is still tethered to life support, fighting to breathe independently while shrapnel and a bullet fragment lodged in her brain continue to pose grave risks. Medical teams describe her recovery as a fragile, unpredictable journey, marked by incremental progress amid profound uncertainty.

Yet Maya’s unbreakable spirit shines through in every small sign of resilience, a testament to the courage that defined her heroic actions that tragic day.

Maya was airlifted to the hospital after sustaining multiple gunshot wounds to the head and neck while attempting to barricade the library door to protect her classmates from the 18-year-old shooter, Jesse Van Rootselaar. The attack claimed eight lives: five students (Able Mwansa, Kylie Smith, Zoey Benoit, Ticaria Lampert—all 12—and 13-year-old Ezekiel Schofield), education assistant Shannda Aviugana-Durand (39), and the shooter’s mother Jennifer Strang and 11-year-old half-brother Emmett at their home. The shooter died by suicide as police arrived.

Maya, one of only two survivors with serious injuries (the other being 19-year-old Paige Hoekstra, who has since been discharged), has defied initial grim expectations that included end-of-life discussions.

As of the latest family updates shared on the GoFundMe page (which has raised over $420,000) and social media, Maya remains in critical condition. Sedation has been fully lifted, allowing brief “awake” periods, but she is still dependent on a ventilator for full breathing support. Shrapnel fragments and a bullet remain embedded in her brain and neck, with doctors monitoring without immediate plans for removal surgery due to the risks.

Brain swelling has decreased following emergency procedures, enabling clearer signs of responsiveness: more deliberate movements on her left side (arm and leg lifting against gravity), weak eye blinking that sometimes appears to track voices or light, faint coughs, and occasional independent breath initiations. However, her right side shows no movement—described by doctors as similar to stroke-like damage that may be permanent—and neurological impairments from the brainstem involvement continue to cloud the prognosis.

Cia Edmonds’ recent posts capture the emotional rollercoaster. On Day 7 (February 17), she shared a poignant reflection: the progress is uplifting, yet she dreads the potential plateau. “There is still a bullet in her. There is still shards in her brain… She still cannot breathe on her own,” Cia wrote, emphasizing the long road ahead.

Despite the challenges, Cia clings to hope, reading aloud cards, letters, and stories sent by supporters—addressed to Maya at Unit 304, 827 W 16th St, North Vancouver, BC V7P 1R2—believing the love helps “call her back.” The hockey community has rallied powerfully, sending jerseys, sticks, and messages to the passionate young player, while strangers worldwide offer prayers under hashtags like #PrayForMaya and #TumblerStrong.

The family’s ordeal has been compounded by a recent heartbreaking incident: someone sliced open the tonneau cover on Cia’s pickup truck and stole Maya’s paddle board, possibly along with golf clubs. Cia shared the news on the GoFundMe, highlighting the added pain amid an already unimaginable crisis.

Nationally, Tumbler Ridge—a remote Rocky Mountain town of about 2,400—continues to grieve. The school remains closed, with portable classrooms planned and counseling intensified. Vigils, memorials, and fundraisers honor all victims, while debates on rural mental health, school safety, and gun access persist. Maya and her family draw strength from the outpouring, with Cia noting compassion even for the shooter’s surviving siblings, who are also receiving support.

Maya’s battle is far from over. Doctors caution that full recovery—if achievable—will be long and arduous, with potential lifelong effects on mobility, cognition, and function. Yet every twitch, every faint breath, every moment she clings to life reaffirms her fighter’s heart—the same one that ran toward danger to save others. As night falls in Vancouver on February 18, 2026, the plea remains simple and profound: hold Maya in your heart and prayers tonight. She is still here, still fighting, and the world stands with her.

Maya’s battle is far from over. Doctors caution that full recovery—if achievable—will be long and arduous, with potential lifelong effects on mobility, cognition, and function. Yet every twitch, every faint breath, every moment she clings to life reaffirms her fighter’s heart—the same one that ran toward danger to save others. As night falls in Vancouver on February 18, 2026, the plea remains simple and profound: hold Maya in your heart and prayers tonight. She is still here, still fighting, and the world stands with her.Maya’s battle is far from over.

Doctors caution that full recovery—if achievable—will be long and arduous, with potential lifelong effects on mobility, cognition, and function. Yet every twitch, every faint breath, every moment she clings to life reaffirms her fighter’s heart—the same one that ran toward danger to save others. As night falls in Vancouver on February 18, 2026, the plea remains simple and profound: hold Maya in your heart and prayers tonight. She is still here, still fighting, and the world stands with her.