OMAHA, Neb. — Little Merritt and big Merritt met Dec. 5. They share a cosmic connection, at first not evident on that Friday.
Little Merritt does not usually embrace strangers.
For the past nine months, Merritt Squire, soon to be 2, has waited for a new heart. When her doctors confirm a match, a team of cardiothoracic surgeons will fly from Omaha to secure the organ. If the call comes on Christmas, they will leave their families to save her life.
“We’re ready at a moment’s notice,” said Dr. Jason Cole, medical director of the advanced pediatric heart failure and transplant program at Children’s Nebraska.
Two to four weeks later, according to the plan, Merritt will leave the hospital for the first time since February. She has lived nearly half of her life in the cardiac intensive care unit here.
Sadness began to overwhelm Merritt’s mother, Mari Jo Squire, in the days before Thanksgiving. She uprooted her life in Indianola, Iowa, and quit her job. Mari Jo and her older daughter, 6-year-old Monica, stay at the Carolyn Scott Rainbow House, apartment-style residences provided for families of patients near the hospital at which Merritt receives care.
“It’s the holidays,” Mari Jo said. “We don’t even have our tree up at home.”
She sees friends on her social media feeds visiting Santa and taking their kids to look at Christmas lights.
“You start to feel one thing after another,” she said, “and you start to feel more sad.”
And then, Mari Jo said, “something like this happens.”
Her husband, Layton Squire, and his two teenage sons, live at home in Iowa. They drive two-plus hours to Omaha on weekends and for important moments — like on that Friday early this month when Merritt Beason stopped by Children’s Nebraska to see the Squire family.
Beason, 22, is a former first-team All-American who spent two seasons after a transfer from Florida as co-captain of the University of Nebraska volleyball team. The No. 1 pick in the November 2024 Pro Volleyball Federation draft, Beason signed in August with the Omaha Supernovas after one season with the Atlanta Vibe.
When Beason arrived in Omaha recently to begin training camp, officials from Children’s Nebraska and the Supernovas set up the meeting. After a quick standoff, little Merritt offered a few high fives. She held big Merritt’s hand and sat in her lap. They listened to little Merritt’s favorite songs and danced.
“The nurses shared with me that it doesn’t normally happen like that,” Beason said. “It was surreal, one of those humbling and grounding moments.”
Merritt Squire has been at Children’s Nebraska since February, awaiting a heart transplant. (Courtesy of Children’s Nebraska)
Merritt Squire was not the only baby tied to the Nebraska fan base who was named after Merritt Beason in 2023 and 2024. Little Merritt is the only one, though, to have spent an hour, just hanging out, with the 6-foot-4 opposite hitter.
“I think it’s an honor that we get to share the same name,” Beason said.
Beason granted Mari Jo a reason to smile. The visit allowed the Squires to feel normal, Mari Jo said. It reminded her that good things can happen for them.
“Never in a million years would I have thought my Merritt would meet big Merritt,” Mari Jo said. “It was a much-needed day, a very good day. We felt very loved. And it brought my spirits back up.”
Mari Jo and Layton met four years ago. Originally from Kansas, Mari Jo played volleyball and ran track at Nebraska-Kearney. Layton played football at Graceland University in Lamoni, Iowa.
She supported Nebraska. He cheered for Iowa. Nebraska volleyball united their fandom. Mari Jo was pregnant with their first child together in 2023. They learned late in the year that they were having a girl.
And while watching Beason and the Huskers in the NCAA Tournament two years ago, it hit them.
“We named her because of this person we saw on TV,” Mari Jo said. “We didn’t know her, but every time she spoke, she seemed so genuine.”
Three days after Nebraska lost against Texas in the national championship match, Merritt Squire was born. She was large at 10 pounds and suffered from shoulder dystocia during childbirth. For 85 seconds, she didn’t have air.
“But we took home what we thought was a normal baby,” Mari Jo said.
At 2 weeks old, Merritt refused to take milk. That night, she awoke screaming. Mari Jo unzipped her baby’s sleeper and saw her struggling for air. They rushed to Blank Children’s Hospital in Des Moines. Medical staff suspected a respiratory virus.
Her chest X-ray revealed an enlarged heart. One doctor, Amanda Jepson, studied the image and turned to face Mari Jo and Layton.
“You need to pick Omaha or Iowa City,” Jepson told them, “and we need to go now.”
They chose Omaha. Friends and family of Mari Jo’s lived nearby. An incoming winter storm grounded plans to travel by helicopter. They raced west on Interstate 80 in an ambulance. Merritt’s heart was functioning at 15 to 20 percent. Mari Jo cried throughout the ride as her parents followed. Nurses tending to Merritt told Mari Jo every few minutes that Merritt was OK.
“Looking back,” she said, “she was so close to not making it.”
In Omaha came the diagnosis: dilated cardiomyopathy. The primary chamber of Merritt’s heart had stretched and grown weak, unable to pump enough blood to the body. She was in heart failure. A genetic mutation caused the condition.
They spent 20 days surrounded by doctors and nurses during that first visit and returned home to Indianola with a medication plan for Merritt. She was slow to hit milestones in the first year of her life. Even eating wore her out.
The Squires stayed hopeful for nearly 13 months.
“Deep down inside,” Mari Jo said, “I knew she was struggling.”
Mari Jo Squire named her daughter Merritt after watching Merritt Beason at Nebraska. “Every time she spoke, she seemed so genuine.” (Courtesy of Children’s Nebraska)
On Feb. 20, 2025, they returned to Children’s Nebraska. Merritt had contracted RSV. She had an acute kidney injury, a result of the heart condition. More than once, Merritt’s morning heart rate reached 195 to 205. Doctors intubated her to prevent cardiac arrest. On March 5, she underwent open-heart surgery to install a Ventricular Assist Device — a Berlin Heart.
The VAD rests outside of Merritt’s body. It cannot be unplugged for more than 30 minutes at a time, but it provides the bridge to a transplant.
Without the VAD, Merritt would not have survived, Cole said. Optimistically, the doctor said he expects a patient like Merritt to wait nine to 12 months for a heart. Her time on the wait list, as of December, is within that range.
Factors in finding a match include time accrued on the list, geographic region, size of the heart required and other medical and genetic conditions.
Hours after confirmation, one surgical team at Children’s Nebraska will begin Merritt’s transplant procedure as the other team is airborne with the donor heart. The surgery in Omaha will require four to six hours.
Cole said the organ should last 20 to 25 years before replacement. In her first year after transplantation, Merritt must stay near her doctors in Omaha. Long term, Cole said he’s seen patients succeed in all areas of life.
“Merritt will have that,” Cole said. “We’re just waiting on the call to make it a reality.”
Before Merritt Beason was born, her parents welcomed a baby boy, Tanner. He suffered from hypoplastic left heart syndrome and lived for 14 days. Beason shared the story of the brother she never met with Cole and Mari Jo during her visit with the Squires.
“It brought tears to their eyes,” Beason said. “God is so intentional in how he uses us. It’s all connected. It makes me understand that my problems as a professional volleyball player are very slim.”
Beason didn’t connect only with little Merritt and her parents. Monica was there too.
“A bundle of joy,” Beason said. “We’re best friends now.”
Monica is making a bracelet for Beason, who studied in college with the intention of teaching third grade. She still wants to work with kids, but pro volleyball altered Beason’s path. Her season with the Supernovas begins in January.
The sport introduced her to the Squires. Beason will be back to see them, she said.
“One of the things that we could always do better is to provide those little snippets of joy for patients and parents through the holiday season,” Cole said. “Merritt coming here was one of those moments.”
Saturday is little Merritt’s second birthday. It comes one day before the NCAA women’s volleyball national championship match. The Squires’ favorite team won’t be in Kansas City, Mo., to play for the title. Nebraska, without Beason this year, lost its perfect season Sunday in a regional final against Texas A&M.
Mari Jo dreams this month about something more precious than a national championship. Printed on the red sweatshirt that she wore to meet Beason were five words: One day at a time.
Mari Jo is at peace with the waiting, but she struggles with what the end of it will represent.
“Being on the transplant list is a very hard thing to process,” she said. “I know there’s going to be another mom having the worst day of her life — and my child is getting a second chance at life.
“If it comes tomorrow, if it comes in another six months and my daughter stays healthy, that’s all I care about.”
