I am Emery Burke, the sister to Hunter and sister-in-law to Sydney—who this is for. A few months ago, they found out they were expecting their 4th baby! A little boy they named Ridge. Since then, after a lot of testing and visits with specialists, they have received news that he has something called middle inter-hemispheric variant of holoprosencephaly (also known as syntelencephaly). This is where the brain does not divide properly and, as a result, causes additional issues in their development. This is an extremely rare case and does not result in survival. Months before this news, my brother, Hunter, also unexpectedly lost his job, so you can imagine the toll all of this is taking. If you are able, any help is appreciated more than you know.

Below, I attached the post my sister-in-law posted recently regarding their son:

“You always want to feel special, like you’re one in a million, but when you hear the words that your pregnancy is 1 in 12,000, it immediately loses its appeal.

Our sweet baby boy has been diagnosed with something called middle inter-hemispheric variant of holoprosencephaly (also known as syntelencephaly).

This has been really hard. It’s hard knowing your baby won’t have a traditional baby face. It’s hard knowing that more than likely he will be buried instead of coming home with us. It’s hard to explain these things to our children. All around, it’s been… hard.

Though his life expectancy seems like it will be short and we are mourning in a lot of ways, through it we have been carried by the Lord. Since we’ve shared our news with family and friends, we have felt the power of prayer. It doesn’t take away the deep heartache we feel, but it has felt like a buffer has been placed between us and the crushing weight of this trial. It is real. He is real.

We have seen Him in the faces and care of our doctors. We have seen Him in the hands that filled our fridge and freezer with food, filled our home with flowers, money, gift cards, child care, and meals. We’ve felt Him in the friend visits that resulted in hugs, tears, and no words. We’ve seen Him in texts of support and the time people have taken from their busy lives to sit and talk with us. It’s easy to feel less alone when there’s an army standing behind you—ready to carry you.

Every day our baby is still living—and every time I feel him kick—feels like a sacred victory. Every day is another statistic defeated. We love him so much already and pray for the chance to meet him alive—even if for a moment.”