On the evening of July 12, my brother and sister-in-law, Greg and Eve, became parents to two tiny miracles: Judah James and Zion Moses, born just shy of 26 weeks. Each weighed barely more than a pound. Our little warriors were rushed straight to the NICU to begin the fight of their lives - small and fragile, but beyond brave.

For a few weeks leading up to their birth, Eve had been in the hospital on bed rest, battling complications most of us could never imagine: a subchorionic hematoma, vasa previa, and a blood clot in her arm. The hope was simple, yet impossibly complex: stay pregnant for just a little longer. Give the twins a little more time to grow.

On the night the twins were born, Eve began to bleed heavily. Within minutes, she was in an operating room. The doctors couldn't wait. Judah and Zion were delivered via emergency C-section and whisked away to the NICU - Judah first, Zion three minutes later. Eve was sent to recovery - but only briefly. Shortly after, she suffered a massive hemorrhage and underwent emergency surgery to save her life. She woke up intubated, in the ICU, unable to speak, but already asking how her boys were.

Two days later, they received news no parent should ever hear - Judah had a rare birth defect, Tracheoesophageal Fistula, where his esophagus and trachea were abnormally connected, that required him to be airlifted to Children's Hospital for immediate surgery. Judah was also born with a heart condition called Tetralogy of Fallot, which couldn’t be corrected until at least 32 weeks, making the urgent TEF surgery even more delicate and risky. They prayed. They sang. They held his tiny hands and toes. They believed for a miracle. We all did.

And for a moment, they had one. Judah lived just long enough for his mother to break out of ICU to meet him. To bless him. To love him. He passed away the following morning during surgery, wrapped in the prayers of his family and the arms of God.

Now, Greg and Eve hold their grief in one hand, and their hope in the other.

Zion is still here. Still growing. Still fighting.

He will likely remain in the NICU for another 12 to 15 weeks. He is already hitting small milestones, proving each day that he inherited his brother's courage and his parents' fighting spirit.

But staying near him has become its own challenge.

Even though they live nearly an hour away from the hospital, Greg and Eve have been denied a room at the Ronald McDonald House. They now face months of housing costs, meals, and transportation, all while walking through unimaginable grief and showing up every single day for their son.

That's why we're asking for your help.

We're hoping to raise $10,000 to help Greg and Eve cover the cost of temporary housing, food, and daily necessities so they can stay where they're needed most: beside Zion.

This is more than a fundraiser, it's a lifeline. A way for friends, family, and kind strangers to come alongside Greg and Eve in the middle of heartbreak and hope. A way to hold up their arms when they are too tired to hold them up themselves.

Judah may be gone from this world, but his name and memory will echo in our hearts forever. His story, though brief, is eternal. And Zion, his identical twin, his mirror, carries a piece of that story forward with every breath.

If you've been wondering how to help, this is it.

Give if you can. Share if you're moved. Pray if you believe in miracles.

Help Greg and Eve stay close to their son. Help Zion feel his parents' love every single day of this fight.

With Unending Gratitude,

Judah and Zion's exceptionally proud Auntie, Jené