11/27/2025
It started on an ordinary day.
A four month checkup.
One of those appointments young parents breeze into, diaper bag on shoulder, bottle tucked in a blanket, expecting nothing more than a quick measurement and a smile.
But sometimes the smallest details can shout the loudest.
The doctor measured Holland’s head.
A sweet little girl everyone calls Holly.
A baby who smiles at her daddy.
A baby who lights up when her big brothers get in her face and make silly noises.
Her head measurement had jumped two inches.
Not one inch in two months like expected.
Two inches in one.
The doctor looked again.
Looked at her forehead.
Looked a little longer.
Something was not right.
A scan confirmed what Alex and Cayden never wanted to hear.
A cyst or tumor at the base of Holly’s head.
Blocking fluid.
Causing pressure.
Causing hydrocephalus.
A word two young parents never imagined hearing.
A word that stops time.
Alex remembers crying most of the day.
Cayden too.
Because nothing in the world hits harder than fearing something you can’t fix for your baby girl.
They met with a neurosurgeon in Birmingham.
They heard the words no parent wants, followed by words every parent prays for.
Yes, there is a tumor.
Yes, it is causing pressure.
Yes, she needs surgery.
But there is hope.
Real hope.
Doctors believe they can remove the tumor in one piece.
No chemo.
No treatment plan beyond healing.
A chance for a normal childhood.
A chance.
Holly returns December 1st for an MRI under sedation.
The next morning, the surgeons will lay out the safest plan to lift this weight off her tiny body.
Alex explains what is happening inside her daughter’s head with the softness of a mother who has had to learn hard things too fast.
The cyst is blocking the pathway where fluid drains.
It cannot move.
It cannot absorb.
And pressure builds in a place no one can reach but a surgeon’s hands.
But Holly.
Sweet Holly.
She smiles.
She plays.
She giggles when her daddy holds her.
She beams when her brothers, Drake and Daxton, crowd her with love.
You would never know anything was wrong.
That is the hardest part.
Alex and Cayden are young parents from a small West Limestone community.
The kind of place where people show up with covered dishes.
The kind of place where neighbors pray before they sleep.
The kind of place where a child’s name gets added to a prayer list before the ink dries.
Alex says prayer is what is keeping her upright.
Prayer and a support system that refuses to let her fall.
Family.
Friends.
Churches across North Alabama.
Strangers who heard Holly’s story and cared as if they had always known her.
Holly is the first girl in decades on her father’s side.
A little blessing wrapped in pink.
A long awaited daughter after two boys.
A baby her mother waited her whole life to dress in bows.
There is fear in Alex’s voice, but there is faith too.
A faith built on a thousand whispered prayers over a crib.
A faith held together by a mother who refuses to let go of hope.
This family has a long road ahead.
MRI on December 1st.
Surgery soon after.
Days in the hospital.
Recovery.
Healing.
Prayers stacked like bricks around them.
And they are asking for one thing.
Stand with them.
Pray for Holly.
Support the family.
Walk with them through this valley and into the healing that Alex and Cayden believe is waiting.
There is a GoFundMe: gofundme.com/help-baby-holland-fight-hydrocephalus
There is Venmo for those who prefer it: CaydenWhite02.
There is an email for anyone who wants to help: AlexJade1212@gmail.com
In a world that often forgets how fragile a moment can be, a 4-month-old girl from West Limestone is reminding all of us of something important.
Life can change in a single appointment.
Love can rise in a single community.
Hope can grow from a single baby girl with a bright smile and a long fight ahead.
Her name is Holly.
And she and her family are not alone.
Let them know.
