“Waiting for Eden: The Baby Who Hasn’t Been Home Yet”.2271

“Waiting for Eden: The Baby Who Hasn’t Been Home Yet”

She should be home by now — wrapped in soft blankets, sleeping beneath the glow of a nightlight, her parents whispering lullabies in the next room.

But three-month-old Eden Riddle has never seen her home in Greeneville.
Since the moment she entered this world on June 30th, she has lived beneath the sterile lights of Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital — her crib replaced by a hospital bed, her lullabies by the hum of machines that keep her alive.

Jarrett and Chelsea, her parents, visit her every single day. They know every sound those machines make, every flicker on the monitor, every tiny expression on their daughter’s face.
They’ve learned the language of medical charts and heart rhythms, of hope and heartbreak intertwined.

And though Eden’s thick, beautiful hair and rosy cheeks make her look like any other baby, her small chest hides a secret far more fragile than most hearts can bear.

A Heart That Wasn’t Whole

Eden was born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS) — a rare and severe congenital defect that occurs when the left side of the heart doesn’t fully develop.


It means her tiny heart can’t pump blood to her body the way it should.
It means she will need multiple surgeries to survive — and even then, her life will never be simple.

When Jarrett and Chelsea first heard the diagnosis, their world stopped.
They had dreamed of the ordinary — the first night at home, the first bath, the first family photo without wires and tubes.


Instead, their little girl began her life in the Intensive Care Unit, surrounded by strangers in scrubs, fighting battles no infant should ever fight.

But Eden fought anyway.

Even as tubes covered her body and alarms echoed through the room, she opened her eyes, looked up at her parents, and somehow — even without words — told them she wasn’t giving up.

A Moment That Changed Everything

The first surgery was supposed to help stabilize her condition — one step in the long, complicated process of repairing what nature hadn’t finished.
It was a risky operation, but necessary.

Then, in a moment that no one saw coming, tragedy struck.

During the procedure, Eden’s esophagus was accidentally punctured.
Almost immediately, her lung collapsed.
Within seconds, she went into cardiac arrest.

The monitors erupted with noise. Doctors and nurses rushed in from every direction.
Chelsea remembers standing frozen, watching through tears as the team surrounded her baby’s bed, calling out numbers, compressions, orders.


And then — silence.
A sound that felt like the end of the world.

For seven endless minutes, Eden’s heart had stopped.
Seven minutes of chaos.
Seven minutes that changed everything.

Then — a cry.
Faint, but real.
Eden was back.

The doctors had brought her back.

Jarrett fell to his knees, sobbing with gratitude. Chelsea pressed her palms together and whispered through tears, “Thank You, God. Please, don’t take her yet.”

The Long Road Back

Since that day, Eden’s body has fought to recover.
The puncture healed, but her heart — already fragile — struggled to keep up.
The complications piled up like dominoes.

Doctors told the Riddles that Eden’s condition was now even more complex.
Her heart simply wasn’t strong enough for another major surgery — not yet.

Instead, they would focus on keeping her stable.


Each week brought a new test, a new scan, a new decision that no parent should ever have to make.

This Friday, surgeons will perform a delicate procedure to insert

stents and keep her Patent Ductus Arteriosus (PDA) open — a small blood vessel that allows more oxygenated blood to flow through her heart.
It’s a temporary fix, one that buys her time.

Time — that’s what Jarrett and Chelsea have learned to pray for.
Not guarantees, not miracles — just time.

Life Inside the Hospital Walls

For three months, the Riddles have lived between hope and heartbreak.
They start each morning with a quiet prayer before walking down the long hallway to the cardiac wing.
They wash their hands, put on gowns, and step into the familiar hum of monitors and soft beeps.

Chelsea hums softly as she strokes Eden’s hair, brushing it away from the tiny adhesive patches on her forehead.
Jarrett reads children’s books aloud — his deep voice steady, though his hands tremble slightly as he turns each page.

Sometimes, when Eden is awake and calm, they imagine what life will be like when she finally comes home.
They’ve already decorated her nursery — pale pink walls, a rocking chair by the window, a mobile of stars and clouds that spins gently when the air conditioner kicks on.

The crib sits waiting.
The baby blanket, embroidered with her name, has never been used.

They dream of the day they’ll carry her through the front door for the first time.
To see her room.
To feel sunlight that isn’t filtered through glass.
To sleep without the hum of machines.

But for now, those dreams stay folded neatly in their hearts, right next to the fear they never speak aloud — the fear that maybe, just maybe, that day won’t come soon.

Holding on to Hope

Each night, as visiting hours end, Chelsea lingers by Eden’s bedside.
She kisses her daughter’s forehead and whispers the same words every time:
“You’re strong, my love. Mommy and Daddy will be right here.”

Then she walks out slowly, holding Jarrett’s hand, leaving behind the faint sound of the monitors — her baby’s heartbeat echoing in her ears all the way down the hall.

Outside, the city lights flicker against the hospital windows.
They drive back to their temporary apartment, exhausted but grateful — for one more day.

They know tomorrow could bring new complications, new uncertainty.
But they also know Eden has already defied the odds once.

And that gives them strength.

Waiting for Home

The doctors don’t know when Eden will be strong enough to leave the hospital.
It could be weeks.
It could be months.

But Jarrett and Chelsea have already decided — whenever that day comes, they’ll treat it like a holiday.
They’ll bring her home with balloons tied to the porch rail, soft music playing, and sunlight streaming through the nursery window.

Because for three months, their little girl has fought for every breath, every heartbeat.
And she deserves to see the home that’s been waiting for her.

Until then, they’ll keep doing what they’ve done since the day she was born — loving her fiercely, praying without ceasing, and believing that one day soon, she’ll finally go home.

Liam’s Brave Fight Against Stage 4 Neuroblastoma.1109

Liam’s Fight: A Family’s Battle Against Neuroblastoma

The word “cancer” is one no parent ever expects to hear tied to the name of their child. For Brandon and his family, life changed forever when their little boy Liam was recently diagnosed with neuroblastoma, a rare and aggressive cancer that begins in the adrenal glands.

Liam is young, full of innocence, and should be spending his days playing with toys, running outside, and learning new things at school. Instead, his world has become a blur of hospital rooms, monitors, medications, and procedures that even many adults would struggle to endure.

The Diagnosis

Neuroblastoma is a cancer that often strikes in early childhood, affecting the adrenal glands that sit atop the kidneys. For Liam, the symptoms came subtly at first—fatigue, unexplained pain, and unusual changes that made his parents concerned. After a series of tests and anxious waiting, the results came back. Their worst fears were confirmed: Liam had stage 4 neuroblastoma.

For Brandon, hearing those words was like having the ground pulled out from under him. He remembers sitting in the doctor’s office, trying to process what “stage 4” really meant. It meant the cancer had spread beyond the adrenal gland. It meant their little boy was about to embark on the fight of his life.

The Setback No One Saw Coming

As if the diagnosis itself wasn’t enough, Liam’s young body has already endured complications that highlight just how fragile this journey can be.

During treatment, he suffered a severe reaction to a medication. His tiny frame couldn’t handle it, and doctors had no choice but to place him on a ventilator. For 27 long hours, a machine breathed for him, while his parents sat helplessly at his bedside, praying he would wake up.

The constant beeping of monitors, the hum of machines, and the sight of their child connected to tubes and wires will forever be etched in their memory. “It was the longest 27 hours of our lives,” Brandon said. “All we could do was sit there, hold his hand, and hope that he felt us with him.”

Thankfully, Liam pulled through. The ventilator was removed, and though he is still fragile, the relief of seeing him breathe on his own again was a gift beyond words.

The Battle With Blood Pressure

Currently, Liam remains in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU), where doctors are working tirelessly to manage his high blood pressure. High blood pressure in children with neuroblastoma is not uncommon, as the tumor itself or its treatments can disrupt normal body functions.

For his parents, this is yet another reminder that every step forward can come with new obstacles. They long to move Liam back to the AFLAC Cancer Unit, where children undergoing treatment can be cared for in a less acute environment. But for now, the PICU is where he needs to be—closely monitored, surrounded by machines and specialists, as his body continues to fight.

Chemotherapy: Round Two

Despite the complications, Liam has already completed his second round of chemotherapy. The treatments are harsh, and the side effects have taken a toll. His energy is low, his appetite comes and goes, and there are moments when the sparkle in his eyes seems dulled by the weight of what he is enduring.

But in the middle of all of that, Liam shows flashes of the little boy his family knows so well. A small smile when his favorite toy is placed beside him. A laugh, faint but real, when his dad whispers something funny. A squeeze of his mom’s hand that says, “I’m still here. I’m still fighting.”

The family celebrated the completion of his second round, even as the results brought more difficult news.

The Lymph Node Result

After his chemotherapy, doctors tested Liam’s lymph nodes to track how well the cancer was responding. The results were crushing: one of the lymph nodes tested positive for cancer.

It was not the news they had prayed for. Brandon remembers the moment vividly. “We just wanted something good—something that said the treatment was working. But instead, we were told there’s still cancer there.”

The family now waits for further testing, which will determine whether Liam will be classified as high risk or intermediate risk. The distinction matters greatly. It will determine the intensity of his treatments, the aggressiveness of the approach, and the likelihood of long-term remission. But regardless of the classification, his stage 4 diagnosis underscores the seriousness of his battle.

Stage 4: A Hard Reality

Hearing “stage 4” attached to their child’s condition shattered Brandon and his wife. Stage 4 means the cancer has spread, likely to distant lymph nodes, bone marrow, or other organs. It means that the road ahead is not just difficult—it’s grueling.

Still, in the midst of tears and sleepless nights, they cling to hope. Neuroblastoma is rare, but advances in treatment have brought survival stories. They know that while the journey is long, Liam has a chance. And as long as there is a chance, they will keep fighting alongside him.

A Father’s Words

In sharing an update, Brandon’s voice carried both exhaustion and determination.

“We wanted to share a quick update on Liam’s condition. Due to a severe reaction to a medication, he had to be placed on a ventilator for 27 hours. He is currently still in the PICU as doctors work to manage his high blood pressure. We’re hopeful he will be stable enough soon to return to the AFLAC cancer unit. Liam has completed his second round of chemotherapy. Unfortunately, one of the lymph nodes came back positive for cancer. We are still waiting on further testing to determine whether he will be classified as high risk or intermediate risk—but as of now, his diagnosis is stage 4. Please continue to keep Liam in your thoughts and prayers. Your support means the world to us during this incredibly difficult time.”

The Power of Community

One of the few sources of comfort for the family has been the outpouring of love from their community. Friends, family, and even strangers have reached out with messages of encouragement, prayers, and support. Each kind word, each gesture, has reminded them that they are not alone in this fight.

The financial strain of hospital stays, treatments, and travel only adds to the stress, but the generosity of others has helped lighten that burden. More importantly, the emotional support has given them strength on days when they felt like they had none left.

Liam: More Than a Diagnosis

It is important to remember that Liam is more than his illness. He is a child with dreams, laughter, and a family that adores him. His favorite toys sit by his hospital bed. His drawings, messy but filled with color, decorate the sterile walls of his room. His giggles, when they come, are a reminder of the life he still deserves to live fully.

For his parents, every smile, every moment of joy, feels like a victory over cancer. They hold onto these moments tightly, treasuring them as fuel for the battles ahead.

A Family’s Plea

The family’s request is simple: pray for Liam. Pray that his blood pressure stabilizes, that his treatments become more effective, that his body finds the strength to keep fighting. Pray that the test results bring clarity, that his doctors have wisdom, and that hope shines through even in the darkest moments.

They know the road is uncertain, but they also know that miracles happen every day. They choose to believe that Liam’s story can be one of those miracles.

Conclusion: Strength in the Storm

Liam’s journey with neuroblastoma is still unfolding. The days ahead will be filled with tests, treatments, and challenges that few can imagine. There will be setbacks and victories, tears and laughter, fear and faith.

But one thing is certain: Liam is not fighting alone. His family is by his side. His community is lifting him up. And his spirit, though tested, remains strong.

Stage 4 is not the end of the story—it is the beginning of a fight that Liam and his family are determined to face with courage, love, and unshakable hope.

And so, as Brandon shares updates and the world learns of his son’s bravery, one truth shines through: Liam may be small, but his fight is mighty. His story is one of resilience, faith, and the relentless power of love.