Fighting for Giana: A 24-Week Preemie’s Battle for Life.1858
On the afternoon of August 14, 2025, at exactly 3:19 PM, my daughter Giana entered the world far earlier than anyone expected.
She was born at just 24 weeks of gestation, weighing a mere 530 grams.
Her body was so small and fragile that she could fit in the palm of my hand, and yet, the very first thing she did was cry.
That cry was tiny but powerful, a declaration that she was alive, that she was fighting to stay with us.
Her original due date had been December 2, 2025.
In our plans, we would have returned to the Philippines, surrounded by family and the comfort of home, to welcome her into the world with joy and celebration.
But life had other plans for us.
Because of work commitments, I needed to remain in Singapore until I could secure clearance to work remotely back in the Philippines.
I believed it was only a matter of waiting a few more months.
Instead, those months turned into a life-threatening emergency.
For years, I had lived with hypertension.
Before pregnancy, I had managed it through exercise, careful diet, and occasional medication.
But once I was pregnant, my options narrowed.
Slowly and silently, my condition developed into preeclampsia, a complication that crept in like a shadow.
One night, despite resting and checking my blood pressure carefully, the numbers refused to come down.
Fear gripped me as I realized both my life and my baby’s life were now in danger.
I rushed to the hospital, hoping doctors could stabilize the situation.
At first, they tried, but within hours, everything began to collapse.
My liver was beginning to fail, my platelet count dropped dangerously low, and the risk of seizures loomed over us.
There was no more time to wait, no more treatments to try.
The decision was made: an emergency delivery was the only way forward.
I remember lying on the hospital bed, tears streaming down my face, whispering silent prayers into the sterile air.
I begged God to let my baby survive, to let me survive, to give us both another chance.
And then, against all odds, I heard her cry.
That moment will forever be etched in my memory—the relief of knowing she was alive, mixed with the heartbreak of knowing her battle was only beginning.
Giana was rushed immediately into the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).
Her world now is a place of wires, machines, and constant vigilance.
She breathes with the help of ventilators.
Her tiny body is supported by tubes delivering nutrition and medications.
Alarms and monitors track her every heartbeat, every breath, every fragile fluctuation.
She lies surrounded by the gentle, determined hands of doctors and nurses who fight beside her.
Every day in the NICU is a battle.
For Giana, something as simple as breathing, digesting milk, or maintaining body temperature requires enormous effort.
Her body is underdeveloped, but her will to live is extraordinary.
Each day she survives is a triumph.
Each small improvement, like a stable oxygen level or a slight weight gain, feels like a miracle.
But miracles come at a cost.
Because we are not Singapore citizens or permanent residents, we are not eligible for any government subsidy.
That means the entirety of Giana’s medical care—every procedure, every medication, every day she spends in the NICU—must be paid for out of pocket.
The hospital has given us an estimate that takes our breath away: SGD 802,000.
This is based on an expected 200 days of hospitalization, a journey of nearly seven months in the NICU.
It is a number that terrifies us.
It is a number far beyond what we can manage alone.
To keep her care going, the hospital requires payment in progressive tranches—SGD 100,250 at a time—until the full amount is reached.
We are doing everything we can to raise funds, but the truth is we cannot do this alone.
We need help, and we need it urgently.
As her mother, my heart longs for the day I can hold her without wires attached to her fragile skin.
I dream of the moment I can bring her home, kiss her cheeks without worrying about machines, and introduce her to family who are waiting to love her.
I imagine her laughing, running, and living a childhood free of hospitals.
But those dreams can only come true if she survives these critical first months.
And her survival depends not only on medical care, but on our ability to provide the financial resources required to sustain it.
This is why I am asking, from the depths of my heart, for help.
No gift is too small.
Every contribution will go directly to Giana’s care.
Every dollar is a lifeline that gives her another chance to fight, another day to grow, another step toward home.
This is not just about numbers or bills.
This is about a tiny baby girl who entered the world too soon, but who refuses to give up.
It is about a mother and father who are willing to sacrifice everything, but who cannot carry this burden alone.
It is about community—the belief that when people come together, miracles can happen.
All funds raised will be managed by Give.Asia and will be paid directly to the hospital.
There will be no detours, no delays—just direct support for the care that keeps Giana alive.
Her story began earlier than it should have, but with your help, it does not have to end here.
Her cry on that first day was more than just a sound—it was a promise.
A promise that she would fight, no matter how small, no matter how fragile.
Now, we must fight alongside her.
Please, help us give Giana a tomorrow.
Help us carry her through this battle, so that one day, she can look back at this chapter not as the end, but as the miraculous beginning of a life filled with hope.
From my heart to yours—thank you for reading, for caring, and for choosing to stand with us.
Together, we can give Giana not only the chance to live, but the chance to thrive.
A Tiny Warrior’s Journey: Help Our 30-Week Baby Survive.1859
Becoming parents was supposed to be the most joyous chapter of our lives.
We had dreamed of the day we would hold our baby in our arms, watch him breathe peacefully, and begin our life together as a family.
But life does not always follow the plans we carefully draw.
Our precious son came into this world far too soon, at just 30 weeks, and that moment changed everything forever.
He was tiny, fragile, and yet incredibly brave.
The first time we saw him, surrounded by wires and machines in the ICU, our hearts broke into pieces.
No parent can ever be prepared for the sight of their newborn fighting for every breath.
The sounds of monitors and ventilators have become the lullabies of our nights, and the sterile lights of the hospital have replaced the warmth of home.
Every touch is careful, every breath is precious, every day feels like a battle between hope and fear.
As first-time parents, we had prepared in every way we could.
Living and working in Singapore, we had planned to return to our home country for the delivery, where family would surround us and where medical costs would be more manageable.
We knew that for foreigners, healthcare expenses in Singapore are extremely high, and we thought we had time to prepare.
But our son had other plans.
He arrived unexpectedly, and his premature birth meant there was no choice but immediate medical intervention.
That moment, though terrifying, was also filled with love.
As small as he was, our son showed us his courage.
His tiny chest rose and fell with the help of machines, his body fought to adapt to a world it was not yet ready for, and still, he held on.
We whispered promises to him, promises that we would fight alongside him, that we would never give up, that we would do everything in our power to bring him home.
But alongside the emotional weight comes a financial burden that feels impossible to bear.
The hospital has estimated that the cost of his care will exceed SGD 230,000.
For us, this number is staggering—so high that it feels almost unreachable.
To take the first step in this fight, we are focusing on raising SGD 80,000.
This milestone will allow us to continue his life-saving treatments while we work toward raising the full amount needed for his care.
Every cent of this money goes directly to his ICU care.
It pays for the machines that keep him breathing, the medications that stabilize his fragile body, and the therapies that give him a chance to grow stronger.
It is not a luxury.
It is his survival.
Despite working hard, we cannot manage this alone.
As foreigners on work permits, we are not eligible for government subsidies.
Insurance does not cover neonatal ICU expenses for us.
We find ourselves in a situation where the costs are crushing, but our love for our son leaves us with no choice but to ask for help.
It is not easy to be vulnerable like this.
It is not easy to admit that we cannot carry this burden alone.
But when we look at our son—so small, so brave, so full of fight—we know we must do whatever it takes.
And so we turn to the kindness of others, appealing for compassion, for generosity, for hope.
Any contribution, no matter the size, will make a difference.
Every dollar brings us closer to giving our son a chance to survive.
Every act of generosity is a lifeline.
If you cannot contribute financially, we ask that you share our story or keep us in your prayers.
Support comes in many forms, and we are grateful for each one.
This is not only about raising money.
It is about believing in community, about knowing that in the darkest times, people can come together to carry one another.
It is about hope—that a tiny baby boy born too soon can be given the chance to live, to grow, to thrive.
We picture the future we are fighting for.
We imagine the day we can bring him home, free from machines and hospital walls.
We imagine him laughing, learning to walk, running in the grass, and experiencing the joys of childhood that every child deserves.
Those dreams feel far away now, but with your help, they can become reality.
This journey has humbled us.
It has broken us in ways we never thought possible.
But it has also shown us the strength of love.
Our son is teaching us courage every day.
And now, we humbly ask you to stand with us in this fight.
From the depths of our hearts, we thank you—for reading our story, for caring about our son, for giving us hope in a time when hope feels fragile.
Together, we can cross this first milestone of SGD 80,000.
Together, we can pave the way for his recovery.
Together, we can help our little warrior continue his fight for life.
All funds raised will be managed by Give.Asia and will go directly to the hospital.
There is no middle step, no delay—just direct support for the care that keeps him alive.
Please, help us give him the fighting chance he deserves.
Every prayer, every donation, every share of this story carries us forward.
And with your help, we believe our son’s story will not end here—it will only be the beginning.
