Amarissa’s Fight
For anyone who knows me personally, you know I am not someone who overshares. But today, I’m sharing our story because my daughter needs help, and we cannot do this alone.
Amarissa’s fight began years ago. We noticed she was constantly thirsty, and I found myself planning every errand around where the closest bathroom would be. She started waking at night, sleepwalking to the bathroom, restless when she should have been sleeping. I took her to her doctor more than once, desperate for answers, but my concerns were dismissed. I was told to “just stop letting her drink so much water.”
The next day, I changed pediatricians.
At our first appointment, I pleaded for someone to truly see what was happening. I didn’t know how to help my daughter, and it was breaking me. In 2019, after more testing, Amarissa was diagnosed with diabetes insipidus.
As terrifying as it was, it also felt like someone finally turned my oxygen back on. We had answers. My baby could finally get some relief. Medication for life wasn’t easy, but it was something we could manage.
But then came the endocrinologist visits.
We learned that this diagnosis could be a symptom of something much bigger—something only time could reveal.
Over the next six years, one by one, every hormone in her body needed to be replaced. Those years were filled with bone pain, memory issues, muscle weakness, fatigue, and constant nausea. We held onto hope, even as the challenges piled up.
Then two years ago, what we thought was just a thickening in a part of her brain turned out to be a tumor. At her latest MRI, they found a second tumor, growing even faster than the first. On 11/14/25, she underwent a brain biopsy.
The results came back: Pure Germinoma Cancer.
Cancer.
My baby has cancer.
Yet through everything—every hospital visit, every scan, every needle, every procedure—Amarissa walks in with a smile, knowing exactly how hard it will be. She has not once asked God to take away her pain. Instead, she prays simply to see her siblings, and to be surrounded by family while she fights.
And that is why I’m turning to you—friends, family, strangers with kind hearts.
We want to be by her side for every moment of this battle. But being present for her means missed work, and the responsibilities of a home do not pause while our world is shaking.
There is treatment. There is hope. But it means chemotherapy and radiation therapy, and a long road ahead.
We are asking for help so that we can hold her hand through every step of this fight, without the fear of losing the stability she needs at home. Any support—financial, prayers, or simply sharing her story—means more than we could ever express.
Thank you for helping us stand with Amarissa in the toughest chapter of her life.
