From the moment we chose his name, we knew it carried strength. I imagined him as a lawyer confidently walking into a courtroom or doing something just as bold and powerful. At just 11 months old, Alessandro has already proven he is every bit that strong. He wakes up every day with a smile and a giggle, reminding us what resilience truly looks like.

From his very first breath, he had us on edge. Twenty long seconds passed before a loud cry filled the delivery room, which was full of doctors, nurses, and surgical techs standing by for an emergency C-section. That cry was met with cheers, and it felt like the whole world exhaled with us.

We have always joked about his old-soul expressions, the scrunched nose, the raised eyebrows, and the little grunts. He’s wise beyond his months. At every check-up, we were told how well he was growing. He had a few colds and little bugs here and there, but always bounced back.

Then came June 16th, the day after our first Father’s Day as a family of five. Alessandro had been throwing up for three days, and something in me said we shouldn’t wait any longer. We held on to that feeling while waiting two hours for a 6 p.m. after-hours appointment. The doctor said he looked okay, but we kept asking questions until he agreed to an X-ray, just for peace of mind. That ten-dollar peace of mind saved our son’s life.

The X-ray showed that ninety-five percent of Alessandro’s lungs were filled with fluid. The doctor returned with tears in his eyes and said he would have missed it. We were rushed across the hospital to the emergency room. It was the same hospital where he was born just ten months earlier.

That evening, we waited to see if a bed would open at the pediatric unit in Clairemont. Around 10 p.m., we were transferred, and finally settled into a room around 2 a.m. On the morning of June 17th, we were transferred again, this time to Rady Children’s Hospital in San Diego for more specialized care. A chest tube was inserted to drain the fluid. At first, doctors thought it was pneumonia or an infection. We hoped that a few antibiotics would bring improvement.

Instead of the word discharge, we were met with new and terrifying words. Cardiac ICU. Heart failure. Potential heart transplant. We held on tightly to the word potential and let it carry us through the next three days. A week later, we were told Alessandro would need a full transplant evaluation. To qualify, he had to be relocated to UCLA. That meant leaving behind our village of friends and family, the ones who had been holding us up with their love, visits, meals, and comforting hugs.

We waited for days until a bed became available. Alessandro flew by helicopter with a team of new medical friends. We drove the two hours behind him, filled with hope, fear, and a need for clarity. We arrived just after midnight and finally began to feel like we were moving toward answers. Things began to move quickly. By Friday he was evaluated, and by Tuesday it was decided that he would be listed for a transplant. On Wednesday, July 3rd, Alessandro James Gomez was officially placed on the heart transplant list.

Today we continue to wait with hope and prayer for an angel heart to give our little boy the second chance he deserves. He is still fighting. Even with chest tubes, leads, and multiple IVs, he reads every paper handed to us like a tiny lawyer checking the fine print. He plays music, watches Isa on YouTube, and FaceTimes family and friends. He is doing everything he would be doing at home, surrounded by love.

He is the missing puzzle piece in our family. We know there are so many adventures still waiting for us. This journey is incredibly hard, but it has also revealed so much beauty. We see it in the love people have shown us, in the kindness of strangers, and in the gift of having time to create memories along the way.

We are deeply grateful for your support through prayers, messages, and contributions to COTA for Cosita. Your love means everything to us and truly helps keep us going.
Thank you for reading, and for loving our little family.

P.S. We call him Cosita, which means “little thing” in Spanish. When I was pregnant and didn’t yet know the gender, we didn’t like saying “it,” so we started calling him Cosita. When we finally announced his name, our daughter Azaliah said, “He will still be Cosita to me,” and the name stuck.

The Children’s Organ Transplant Association (COTA) helps children and young adults who need a life-saving transplant by providing fundraising assistance and family support. COTA is the nation’s only fundraising organization solely dedicated to raising life-saving dollars in honor of transplant-needy children and young adults. 100% of each contribution made to COTA in honor of our patients helps meet transplant-related expenses. COTA’s services are free to our families, and gifts to COTA are tax deductible to the fullest extent of the law.