Nolan is four and a half now, turning five this June.

He is a little brother to Bradley and Callie, who, as their mom says, “have grown up far too quickly through this journey.” Together, they are a close-knit family from Brechin, Ontario — the kind of small town where everyone knows each other, and support runs deep.

That support mattered. Because what their family was about to face was something no one could prepare for.

A Mother Knows
It started with something that didn’t feel right.

Nolan had been on antibiotics for an ear infection. After missing a couple of doses, Courtney gave him one on a Saturday morning. A few hours later, a rash appeared. Then it began to darken, turning into bruising.

Over the next stretch of time, they went to six different hospitals. Each time, they were told the same thing. A virus. Nothing to worry about. They were sent home. But Courtney couldn’t shake the feeling. “As his mom, I knew in my gut that something was wrong.”

She pushed for more answers. Their family doctor listened and referred them to a pediatrician. Even then, they were told Nolan was likely just pale, not eating enough iron, drinking too much milk. Still, she insisted on blood work.

That decision changed everything.

Within hours, they were sent to The Hospital for Sick Children. Nolan’s blood counts were showing signs of leukemia. From that moment on, everything moved quickly. He was diagnosed with JMML leukemia.

Life Split in Two
What followed was a life no family plans for. Hospital rooms. Isolation. Long days and longer nights. Uncertainty that never really lifts.

At the same time, life at home had to continue. Bradley and Callie still needed routines, school, and a sense of normal. Courtney and Derek were pulled between two worlds, trying to hold everything together while fighting for their son’s life.

“Our family was split between hospital and home,” Courtney says. “Trying to keep some sense of normal while fighting for Nolan.”

Nolan would go on to endure three bone marrow transplants. The first failed. He needed a boost. Then, just months later, he relapsed.

At that point, they were faced with an impossible decision: Choose quality of life — or take a five percent chance and fight again.

“Without hesitation, we chose to fight,” Courtney says.

A Place to Stay Together
They arrived at Ronald McDonald House Toronto in December 2022, just as everything had shifted into what Courtney describes as “survival mode.”

Even though they had some familiarity with the House through a family member’s experience, nothing prepares you for needing it yourself. “Honestly, I truly don’t know what we would have done without it,” she says.

The reality of staying in Toronto for extended treatment is overwhelming. The cost of accommodations, meals, and daily living adds up quickly, especially when work is disrupted and routines disappear.

Ronald McDonald House Toronto changed that.

“It gave us stability when everything else felt like it was falling apart,” Courtney says. “It allowed us to focus on Nolan instead of worrying about where we would sleep or how we would afford meals.”

At different points in their stay, the entire family was able to be there. Derek. Courtney. Bradley. Callie. Nolan. Being together, in the middle of everything, made a difference that is hard to fully put into words.

The People Who Understand
Inside the House, something else began to take shape — connection.

“We built so many friendships,” Courtney says. “The kind that only form when families are walking through the unimaginable together.”

There is a quiet understanding between parents in that space. It doesn’t need to be explained. It shows up in late-night conversations in the kitchen. In shared glances in the elevator. In moments where words are not necessary. “Shared tears and shared hope,” she says. “Those friendships meant everything. They reminded us we weren’t alone.”

The Small Things That Carry You
Over time, it was often the smallest details that made the biggest impact.

A warm meal waiting downstairs after a long day at the hospital. “Those meals truly saved us,” Courtney says. “It was something to look forward to in days that otherwise felt heavy.” The pressure of planning, cooking, and paying for food disappears, even if just for a moment. In its place, there is relief.

Programs like Wednesday massages gave parents a chance to pause. “The quiet moments of care gave us space to breathe,” she says.

For the kids, crafts and activities brought pieces of normal childhood into a time that felt anything but normal. And then there were the everyday details. Laundry. Toiletries. A stocked kitchen. Volunteers who greet you by name.

“It’s the feeling that someone thought of every detail so you don’t have to,” Courtney says. “In the hardest chapter of our lives, that meant everything.”

What This Made Possible
Today, Nolan is in remission. This March marks nearly two years.

There are no guarantees, and the past is never far behind. But the way the family speaks about today is clear. “Every single day feels like a gift,” Courtney says.

The hard will always be part of their story. But so will resilience. So will strength. And so will hope. Because during the most difficult time in their lives, they were able to stay together. They did not have to choose between being there for Nolan and managing the reality of being far from home.

They stayed close to care. They stayed close to each other. And that changed everything.

Today, Nolan runs, plays, and grows alongside his brother and sister. A little boy with a future that once felt uncertain. And through it all, he was never alone. Because when a child is in the hospital, family stays.

And because of you, they can.