She’s only three months old.
Tiny, fragile, and wrapped in tubes instead of blankets, little Eden Riddle has never seen the inside of her own home.
Since the day she was born, her world has been confined to a hospital room — bright lights, steady beeps, and the quiet prayers of her parents,
Jarrett and Chelsea.
Born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome (HLHS) — a rare and devastating condition where the left side of the heart doesn’t fully develop — Eden’s life began in a battle.
For most babies, a heartbeat is simple.
For Eden, every beat is a miracle.
Doctors knew from the start that her heart would need help to survive.
Surgery was her only chance.
But even in the careful hands of her medical team, tragedy struck.
During one of her early surgeries, something went wrong.
Her tiny esophagus was accidentally punctured.
Her lung collapsed.
And then, her little heart stopped.
For seven endless minutes, the room filled with panic and urgency.
Doctors worked frantically, refusing to give up.
And then — a flicker.
A heartbeat.
Eden came back.
Her parents call that moment a resurrection.
The day they learned that their daughter, so small and fragile, carried the heart of a fighter.
But her journey is far from over.
Eden’s heart is still too weak for another major surgery.
Her doctors are doing everything they can — waiting, watching, adjusting medications — while her parents wait and pray.
Every day feels like borrowed time.
Every good morning, every stable heartbeat, every quiet nap is a victory.
Jarrett and Chelsea spend their days beside her crib, reading stories, whispering lullabies, and brushing her soft hair — the only part of her untouched by the tubes and scars.
“She has the most beautiful hair,” her mom says, smiling faintly through exhaustion.
It’s one of the few reminders that beneath all the wires and machines, she’s still just a baby — their baby.
This week, doctors are preparing for another procedure.
They’ll insert small stents to keep Eden’s Patent Ductus Arteriosus (PDA) open — a vital passage that allows blood to flow properly into her heart.
It’s not a cure, but it’s a bridge.
A way to buy her more time, to give her body a chance to grow stronger.
Her parents cling to hope — the fragile kind that flickers like candlelight but refuses to go out.
They pray she’ll be strong enough for surgery someday soon.
They pray she’ll open her eyes in her own room, not under hospital lights.
They pray for the day they can finally say,
“Welcome home, baby girl.”
For now, they wait.
They watch the monitors, memorize every beep, every breath, every sign of strength.
They’ve learned that hope doesn’t always look like healing — sometimes, it looks like a heartbeat on a screen, or a hand that finally moves, or a smile that breaks through the pain.
Eden’s story isn’t one of defeat.
It’s one of endurance.
Of parents who refuse to let go.
Of a baby who’s too little to understand the word impossible.
And one day, when she’s strong enough to leave the hospital and finally see her home for the first time, it won’t just be a homecoming — it’ll be a miracle.
Until then, her parents keep whispering the same words every night beside her crib:
“You’re strong, Eden. You’re loved. And we’re not giving up.”
Everett, the Six-Month-Old Fighter: How a Tiny Baby Brings Light and Hope Amid Childhood Cancer.1427
Everett is a bright and content six-month-old baby.
From the moment he wakes, he fills the room with coos and his gummy smile, lighting up everyone around him.
Every tiny movement, every little squeal brings joy to his parents, who have watched him grow with awe and gratitude.
Everett’s journey started long before he was born.
Because his biological father, aunt, and grandfather all had retinoblastoma, his family knew that he might face the same challenges.
They were prepared to act fast, and the doctors at the prenatal clinic took no chances.
At 37 weeks of gestation, an ultrasound revealed a tumor in Everett’s eye.
It was a moment that shook Kiersten, his mom, to her core.
The fear, the uncertainty, and the knowledge of the battles his family had faced weighed heavily on her heart.
Everett began treatment at just two weeks old.
Even though he was only days into life, he showed a resilience that amazed everyone around him.
Chemotherapy at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia was grueling, even for such a tiny baby.
The long days and nights were punctuated by endless appointments, tests, and procedures.
Yet Everett handled them with a calmness that seemed beyond his months of life, as if he understood that every jab, every IV, every medication was a step toward health and survival.
By November 2024, Everett had finished his initial rounds of chemotherapy.
But cancer, as it so often does, had a way of testing their spirits further.
New seeds of cancer developed, stubborn and persistent.
Undeterred, Everett began receiving intra-arterial chemotherapy, a more targeted treatment, alongside regular follow-up eye examinations.
For his mother, Kiersten, watching him endure this at just a few months old was both heartbreaking and inspiring.
“He is my son,” she said. “And he has saved me mentally from so many things. He is the light of my world and makes me smile every day.”
Kiersten recalls the early days after the diagnosis as being overwhelming.
At first, the complexity of a childhood cancer diagnosis felt like an insurmountable storm.
The medical jargon, the constant fear of what might happen next, the sleepless nights—everything seemed to press down on her.
But over time, she found that having support made the journey manageable.
Even small gestures of help, someone simply listening or holding her hand during a procedure, made a world of difference.
One of the most critical support systems for Everett’s family has been the Travel For Care program from Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation.
“Alex’s Lemonade Stand has been a huge help to us in providing hotels and covering travel costs for Everett’s treatments,” Kiersten shared.
This support allowed them to focus on Everett’s well-being, without the added stress of arranging accommodations and transportation for his appointments.
Knowing they were not alone gave Kiersten and her family strength to face the challenges of each new day.
Everett’s story is one of courage, resilience, and love.
Though he is only six months old, he has already taught those around him lessons about bravery and hope.
Every smile he gives, every coo, every tiny hand that reaches out is a reminder of the importance of cherishing life, even in the midst of fear and uncertainty.
Kiersten hopes that sharing Everett’s journey can help others who are navigating the difficult waters of a childhood cancer diagnosis.
She wants parents to know that, while the beginning is frightening and complicated, the path can gradually become manageable with support, information, and love.
“The road may feel overwhelming at first,” Kiersten says, “but having people who care and who help you along the way makes all the difference. You find moments of peace, moments of joy, even in the hardest times.”
For now, the focus is on what matters most: Everett’s health.
Every milestone he reaches, every day he spends growing and thriving, is a victory.
His family celebrates the small victories, the little moments of normalcy amidst the treatments and hospital visits.
They celebrate his smiles, his coos, the gentle ways he reacts to the world around him.
Everett may be tiny, but his spirit is mighty.
He is a hero in the eyes of his mother, a beacon of hope for families facing similar battles, and a living reminder that even the youngest among us can show incredible courage.
Through the unwavering support of programs like Alex’s Lemonade Stand Foundation, Everett’s family can focus on cherishing every day together, and on believing in a brighter, healthier future for their little fighter.
Kiersten looks at Everett and sees not just a baby who has faced more in six months than most do in a lifetime, but a source of inspiration, resilience, and pure, unyielding love.
“He has taught me more than I could have imagined,” she says softly, smiling as she watches him rest.
“The fight continues, but so does the hope—and with that hope, anything seems possible.”
