Chelsea, Matt, & Rocket fund

Last November, our lives changed forever with the birth of our daughter, Rocket Sue. She was born at home, on our little ranch in Ojai.  You may remember her birth announcement:
Two weeks later, the Thomas fire came barreling toward us, and we evacuated with our newborn, 3 cats, and 3 horses. We stayed at a Super 8, a Marriott, and a family cabin in the mountains while we waited for the fire and smoke to abate.We made it home, all three of us with colds, just in time for Rocket’s first Christmas. 
We were able to relax for a while after that, get to know our baby girl and settle in to our new roles as parents. We started an art, design, and apparel business called Rodriguez Artt. We even took Rocket to her first Lucidity.
Meanwhile, we had started experiencing strange health issues. We were both developing food intolerances. Matt had a week-long unexplained GI illness, then a few weeks later, 3 days of hives. Chelsea’s sister, Dalayna (Rocket’s Aunt  D), had the insight to get our house tested for mold. The results were startling: our house tested in the 90th percentile—it was infested with black mold. Before we had a chance to fully comprehend the implications of this, we got an abrupt wake up call. 
Shortly after Chelsea’s first Mother’s Day, she started feeling sick. She was delirious, feverish, and had a temperature of 92°. Urgent Care sent us to the ER. After a full day in the CMH ER, she was admitted. At 5am the following morning, the doctors burst into Chelsea’s room to tell her she was in liver failure. 
Chelsea was immediately moved to the ICU, where Rocket could not follow. Her blood was so dangerously thin, they gave her a blood transfusion to help her body compensate. A lactation consultant helped her pump a dozen ounces and brought the milk out to Matt and Aunt D, who gave Rocket her first bottle. 
Back in the ICU, they told Chelsea she would likely need a liver transplant and that she was going to be medevaced to the specialized liver ICU at UCLA. Once at UCLA, they rushed Chelsea through the transplant approval protocol. IVs in both arms, wires, tubes, frequent blood draws, test after test...social worker interview at 1am, heart ultrasound at 2, no food or water, no answers, no peace. Although she looked rather normal on the outside, there was nothing normal about what was going on internally. They told us later she had a 50/50 chance of needing a liver transplant that night. 
Thus began Chelsea’s weeklong battle with liver failure, while Rocket’s Aunt D, Grandpa, Nani, Papa, and great-Aunt Wendy collaborated to care for and feed her, and Matt bounced back and forth between Chelsea and Rocket, trying to support and comfort them both. 
Under the doctor’s close observation, Chelsea’s liver began healing itself. In their search for a cause, they narrowed it down to some sort of virus or toxin, but couldn’t confirm without a biopsy. 
Chelsea was moved out of the ICU into a regular hospital room for a few more days of observation, then finally released a week from the day it all started.
Our family was together again.Chelsea and Rocket were finally reunited after a week apart. We headed home, hoping for recovery, but were met instead with the next adversity. With no definitive diagnosis from the UCLA doctors, all other signs pointed toward our moldy house as the culprit. Unwilling to risk triggering a repeat hospitalization, we moved into tents in our front yard. Once the landlord was apprised of the situation, he moved us to a hotel. But instead of getting downtime to recuperate, we were blindsided yet again. 
On June 14, our landlord officially gave us 2-weeks notice to vacate our home, or lose our security deposit. Two weeks to find a new house, to decontaminate and pack all our belongings, to take down and reconstruct a horse facility and relocate 3 horses and 3 cats, and to take care of a 7 month old, and somehow work to finance it all. 

So this is where we now find ourselves. On June 30, we’ll be homeless. We’re looking for properties, but need one with 2+ acres for the horses. And our current income is extremely limited and heavily taxed from Chelsea’s hospitalization, moving back and forth from hotels, with no time to work and zero access to the studio. 
Neither one of us have ever been the type to ask for help or feel entitled to assistance of any kind. But in recent times of trauma, our community has been so present and so loving, we feel encouraged to share our story with you all, and humbly ask for your help. 
Please help our little family get back on our feet and back under a roof we can call our own. Thank you to all who have helped us already; we are grateful beyond words.