Tyler Reddick’s wife, Alexa, shares her feelings about her son Rookie’s recovery after surgery. Their journey with the baby has not been as smooth as expected. Potential risks for the child in the future have led to an outpouring of support from fans on social media for the baby and family.

In the high-octane world of NASCAR, where split-second decisions and roaring engines define success, Tyler Reddick has always been a picture of resilience. The 29-year-old driver for 23XI Racing, co-owned by Michael Jordan and Denny Hamlin, has clinched victories and championships with the kind of focus that turns chaos into triumph. But this fall, as the 2025 Cup Series playoffs heat up, Reddick’s greatest test isn’t on the track—it’s in a quiet hospital room in Charlotte, North Carolina, where his four-month-old son, affectionately nicknamed Rookie, battles for his health. Born on May 25, 2025—the same day Reddick raced in the Coca-Cola 600—Rookie entered the world as a symbol of new beginnings. Instead, his arrival has unfolded into a harrowing saga of medical uncertainty, one that Alexa Reddick, Tyler’s wife of just over a year, has bravely chronicled for their supporters.

The ordeal began subtly, almost invisibly, in the early summer months. Rookie, the couple’s second son after big brother Beau, seemed like any other infant: curious, cuddly, and full of that boundless energy only babies possess. But as weeks turned into months, subtle signs emerged—fatigue, labored breathing—that Alexa, ever the vigilant mother, refused to dismiss. “After a run around for months with the pediatrician’s office, I knew what was going on was something bigger,” she shared in an Instagram story on October 6, her words a raw admission of the frustration that precedes fear. What started as suspected reflux escalated into a nightmare diagnosis: a tumor in Rookie’s chest, pressing against his renal vein and artery like an uninvited intruder. The blockage forced his tiny heart to pump harder, faster, enlarging it in a desperate bid to circulate blood. By late September, Rookie was showing unmistakable signs of heart failure, landing him in the cardiovascular intensive care unit at Atrium Health Levine Children’s Hospital.

Tyler’s world, already a blur of travel and tire smoke, ground to a halt. Just days before the Hollywood Casino 400 at Kansas Speedway on September 28, he spoke candidly to reporters, his voice cracking under the weight of it all. “What my son Rookie is going through is serious. A tricky situation. More than anything, I’m just ready to get on a plane and go home.” Yet, true to his grit, he climbed into the No. 45 Toyota Camry XSE that weekend, finishing seventh—a feat that felt hollow against the backdrop of ICU monitors beeping in his mind. Alexa, daughter of former MLB pitcher Jose DeLeon, became the family’s steadfast communicator, posting updates that blended heartbreak with hope. On September 30, she shared a photo of Rookie swaddled in her arms, wires snaking across his chest, captioning it with quiet gratitude after a blood transfusion: “He’s doing better today.” By October 2, an MRI loomed, and she admitted the waiting was its own torment. “Reports tomorrow,” she wrote, a single sentence heavy with unspoken prayers.

The plot thickened on October 5, as Tyler prepped for the Bank of America Roval 400 in Concord. Alexa revealed the tumor’s cruel mechanics: it wasn’t just compressing vessels; it had rendered Rookie’s right kidney non-functional. “He will undergo open surgery to remove his right kidney,” she posted. “We’re just not sure when. Waiting is ok right now to give his heart a break while he’s on BP medication.” Tyler, starting from the pole position that day, echoed her vulnerability in a press conference. “This is the hardest thing that I’ve had to go through,” he said, praising the “impactful” support from the NASCAR community. “Some of the tougher moments are definitely ahead.” They finished 10th, eliminated from playoffs, but the race was secondary. Rookie’s heart, doctors assured, could fully recover—it was merely an “innocent bystander” in this vascular siege. Still, the family braced for the unknown, leaning on faith and the expertise of Levine’s team.

October 12 brought a sliver of resolve amid the storm. Alexa announced the surgery date: Tuesday, October 14. “Rookie will have surgery Tuesday,” she wrote in her Instagram story, alongside a photo of their “little Cookie” gazing up with wide eyes. “He will return to CVICU where they will monitor his heart and BP while his renin slowly drops. Please keep lifting our cookie up in prayer.” The plea resonated like a starter’s pistol. NASCAR’s tight-knit fandom, from die-hard trackside veterans to casual viewers, flooded social media with messages of solidarity. Jeff Gluck of The Athletic shared Alexa’s posts, amplifying them to tens of thousands. “Praying for Tyler Reddick, Alexa, and their son Rookie as he undergoes his surgery today,” tweeted one supporter, a sentiment echoed in hundreds of replies. Hashtags like #PrayForRookie trended in racing circles, with fans from as far as Reddit’s r/NASCAR subreddit posting virtual vigils. Even unrelated stories of parental fortitude—tales of other families navigating pediatric crises—poured in, weaving a tapestry of shared empathy. “Children are so strong. So resilient,” one father reflected in a viral thread, his words a balm for the Reddicks.

The surgery unfolded as scheduled, a meticulously planned open procedure to excise the compromised kidney and alleviate pressure on Rookie’s heart. Hours later, on October 15, Alexa emerged from the haze of waiting rooms with words that captured the family’s fragile relief: “Rookie came back one kidney lighter.” Accompanied by a photo of their son, still groggy from anesthesia but stable, she elaborated: “He is recovering and still coming out of anesthesia. The surgery went well and his team is confident he will not need treatment after.” The phrase “one kidney lighter” landed with poignant levity—a nod to Rookie’s fighter spirit, perhaps inherited from his father’s unyielding drive. Yet, beneath the optimism lurked the shadows of what lies ahead. Living with a single kidney demands vigilance: lifelong monitoring for hypertension, protein loss in urine, or compensatory overwork on the remaining organ. The tumor’s full pathology report is pending, and while doctors predict no further interventions, the Reddicks know pediatric cases like this can harbor surprises. “We have answers but a journey ahead to bring our little Cookie home,” Alexa had written earlier, a line that now feels like a roadmap etched in uncertainty.

Tyler’s response has been a masterclass in compartmentalization. Fresh off a fifth-place finish at the South Point 400 in Las Vegas on October 12—mere days before the operation—he dedicated his podium interview to Rookie, his voice steady but eyes distant. “Healthier is probably not the right word, but I’ve never seen him happier,” he said of a recent visit, describing his son’s infectious smiles amid the sterile beeps. Off the track, the couple has drawn strength from their circle: Hamlin, who ensured top-tier care through team resources; family, including Alexa’s baseball-rooted kin; and a faith that Tyler credits for his clarity. As Rookie transitions back to CVICU for observation, the next few days are pivotal—watching for stable vitals, easing off blood pressure meds, and ensuring the heart doesn’t rebel against its newfound ease.

In sharing her feelings so openly, Alexa has transformed private pain into public purpose. “Softer than a kidney,” she might say of Rookie’s vulnerability, but his recovery hints at a toughness forged in fire. Fans, moved by this unvarnished humanity, have rallied not just with prayers but practical offers—meal trains for Beau, care packages for the hospital. One X post captured it perfectly: “My thoughts are with sweet little Rookie on his continued recovery along with his parents and Big Brother Beau.” It’s a chorus that drowns out the engine noise, reminding the Reddicks they’re not alone.

As October wanes and Talladega beckons on the 19th, Tyler will strap in once more, channeling this trial into fuel for the No. 45. But for now, the real victory laps are in Charlotte: Rookie’s first unassisted breath, his fingers curling around Alexa’s, the slow unfurling of a family from crisis. Their journey, far from smooth, has exposed the raw underbelly of parenthood in the spotlight. Yet in Alexa’s words—tender, tenacious—it shines as a testament to love’s quiet horsepower. With one kidney and two loving parents, Rookie’s story is just revving up.