By the time you’re pregnant with your fifth child, you know what to expect. At least that’s what Phil and Andrea Rizzo thought. After nine months of an uneventful pregnancy, they checked into a hospital in Riverside, CA to induce labor. While preparing Andrea for the birth, the nurse noticed that the baby had flipped. They decided to wait instead of inducing labor that day. Though the Rizzos didn’t know it, this was a hidden blessing.

They returned a few days later and to meet with a specialist who could flip the baby so it would not be breach.

“During the exam the doctor’s personality changed,” recalls Phil. “His face became very serious and his tone got very direct.”

The ultra sound showed that their son had an abnormally large head; a more thorough examination with the ultrasound showed that their son had hydrocephalus, or water on the brain.

“At that moment, I felt as though I’d stepped into a movie where I was the main character,” says Phil. “Everything went into slow motion. I heard the doctor’s voice, but it was like an echo. Everything else around me was drowned out by his words. I felt my knees go weak and I kept squeezing Andrea’s hand tighter. I saw only him and nothing else in the room.

“The doctor sat there with a 20-year-old photocopy of a medical journal detailing the problems associated with hydrocephalus. He kept droning on and on about the most dire elements of the disease and the hardships that we would be facing. He insisted that our child would have clubfeet, blindness and would never be able to communicate. We listened to everything he had to say until he suggested that – even though the baby was 39 ½-weeks old – there were places in Los Angeles that he could refer us to that would terminate our son. At that point the movie stopped.

“’STOP!’ I remember screaming, “Just stop!’ I didn’t want to hear him talking anymore. I lost faith in him as a ‘specialist’ in that moment. We asked him to leave us while we dealt with the news.”

“We cried together and hugged each other,” says Andrea. “We drove the whole way home in total silence.”

They stopped at Phil’s parents’ home to pick up their other four children.

“They were all shocked to see us,” recalls Andrea. “They didn’t expect us until we came home with the baby. I tried to answer the questions my girls were firing at me but I just couldn’t speak. I simply broke down and we all started crying.”

“It was our little four year old at the time, Lilliana, who in the most innocent and sweet way, came and grabbed us by the hand and lead us to the couch to sit down,” says Phil. “She kept comforting us. I am sure the kids were thoroughly confused because neither of us could speak. Until that day they’d never seen me cry.”

They returned home together and the mood was somber.

“Andrea cried herself to sleep that night,” says Phil. “I was too keyed up to lie down. My sales training taught me to control what you can. I can’t control people or things, but I can control my activity, so I got busy researching.”

Reading through pages of medical text actually gave him some peace of mind.

“The doctor’s prognosis made me feel helpless, so taking action made me feel better,” says Phil. “It also gave me hope. The picture the doctor had painted was based on old data. As I read I realized that things were not as dire as the doctor led us to believe. Medical science had made major strides and some of the conditions presented were the worst-case scenario. There was no indication that we were looking at the worst case.

“I fell asleep at about 3 a.m. feeling more in control of the situation,” says Phil. “The next morning, I called my boss. I had only been there for 60 days and I had to tell them that I was not coming into the office.”

After that Phil made a call to Pediatric Neurosurgeon Michael Muhonen, M.D., who was director of the Neurosurgery Division at Children’s Hospital of Orange County.

“I spoke to the head nurse and her confidence, calmness and kind words immediately put me at ease,” says Phil. “’ Don’t worry, you’re in good hands, we’ll take care of it,’ she said. She helped us to find the best high risk OBGYN, Dr. Linsey. She handled all of the details and made the necessary arrangements. She gave hope, comfort and understanding. She was another blessing, a real angel.”

The next day, Phil and Andrea headed off to a series of appointments and medical tests preparing for the c-section.

“We arrived at CHOC hospital in Orange the very next day,” says Phil. “Before the procedure, the doctor asked us if we wanted to join him in prayer. We prayed over Andrea’s belly that the delivery would be a success and that God would be there for our baby after it was born. We prayed that God would be with us on this journey. Despite an intense 48 hours my wife and I were at peace about the birth.”

The doctor’s prayers weren’t the only ones storming heaven that day. Through the internet, church groups and Andrea's network of mom's groups, the word had spread of their baby's condition. By their own account the family had tens of thousands of people praying for them.

“We had groups in almost all fifty states praying for our family and that was only the people we knew about,” says Andrea. “Knowing the way word spreads on the internet there could have been hundreds of thousands of people praying for our son.”

“Forty-five minutes after the procedure, we heard the doctors voice filled with a joy and a great big smile. ‘He’s perfect!’ he said. ‘He just has a big head.’ The tension that had filled the room dissipated and we all smiled and laughed tears of joy along.”


Indeed everything was perfect. Anthony Joseph Rizzo was a healthy baby with ten fingers and ten toes. His arms and legs were perfectly formed. His lusty cry delighted the medical team assisting with the birth.

“CHOC is connected by underground tunnels, so while Andrea recovered from surgery I went with Anthony Joesph to get his first CT scan,” recalls Phil. “He was set for surgery the next morning at 8 a.m. I slept in the chair next to his crib, until morning, checked on Andrea then ran home to shower so I could be back at the hospital for the operation to drain some of the excess fluid out of his brain.”

Anthony Joseph, or AJ as his family began calling him, was in the NICU (Neo-Natal Intensive Care Unit) for three weeks.

“Andrea was there during the day and I was there every night until 3 a.m. with AJ,” recalls Phil. “I was still in my probationary period at work but they were incredibly supportive of me and my family. They allowed me to work odd hours to so that I could complete my projects. I would go to work at 3 in the morning, head home in the late afternoon, sleep for a few hours then head straight to the hospital.”

AJ is an engaging four year old. He loves his sisters and they adore him.