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Learning, Connection, and Hope: The Pediatric Hope Project
From Experience to Action
Through my experience with stage four neuroblastoma, I noticed that education was a challenge that many families were facing. Between hospital stays, appointments, fatigue, and the emotional toll of illness, keeping up in school could feel impossible. I also saw how much siblings were affected. This eventually motivated me to create the Pediatric Hope Project.
The Pediatric Hope Project is a nonprofit organization that provides free one-on-one tutoring and mentorship for children with cancer and other serious illnesses, as well as their siblings. We match families with volunteer tutors from mostly college and graduate programs based on each student's needs. Our tutoring sessions are virtual, which allows us to support students wherever they are, whether at home, in the hospital, or recovering between treatments.
More Than Academic Support
While academic support is a big part of what we do, our mission goes beyond that. We want students to feel supported and connected during a time when life feels uncertain. Tutors can become a familiar face each week, offering encouragement and companionship.
For parents, educational support can make a meaningful difference, as families dealing with complex medical conditions are already balancing countless responsibilities and worries. By providing free tutoring, we hope to lighten their load and give families one less thing to worry about.
Building Confidence and Connection
One of the most rewarding parts of this work has been seeing the relationships that develop between tutors and students. Many children look forward to their sessions not only because they are learning, but because they have someone to talk to about books, hobbies, goals, and everyday life. For siblings, tutoring can also be a reminder that they matter and deserve support, too.
One parent shared, “Tutoring has helped my son by giving him the structure he needs to stay on track, especially with everything he’s juggling medically. It has boosted his confidence by helping him feel capable and caught up, and it has improved his attention because the sessions are paced in a way that keeps him engaged without overwhelming him.”
Another family shared, “One of the most meaningful aspects of the program for our child has been the opportunity to connect and communicate with someone outside of our household. She always looked forward to Fridays and is genuinely excited to meet with her tutor, talk, and share about anything under the sun. Those interactions became very special to her.”
A Hope for Every Family
My hope for the Pediatric Hope Project is simple: that every family facing pediatric illness has access to educational support. No child should have to fall behind because they are focused on getting better, no sibling should feel overlooked, and no parent should have to navigate these challenges alone.
Through the Pediatric Hope Project, we're working to provide that kind of support by helping children and families find confidence, connection, and hope, even during some of life's hardest moments. Every one of our tutoring matches represents a courageous child continuing to learn despite difficult circumstances and a generous volunteer choosing to invest their time and care in someone else's journey.
More from the Ronald McDonald House Resource Link:
More Than Sauce, Noodles, and Cheese: How Lasagna Love Supports Families Through Simple Acts of Kindness
When a child has a serious illness, everyday life can quickly become overwhelming. Between hospital stays, treatments, appointments, work, and caring for the rest of the family, even simple tasks like preparing dinner can feel impossible.
That’s Where Lasagna Love Steps In
Lasagna Love is a global nonprofit movement powered by volunteers who provide homemade lasagna to neighbors in need with no questions asked, no qualifications required, and no judgment attached. We strive to normalize asking for help. What began as one Facebook post during the pandemic has grown into a grassroots movement serving families across the United States, Canada, Australia, and the U.K.
At its heart, Lasagna Love is about more than food. It exists to feed families, spread kindness, and strengthen communities by showing up for neighbors during difficult times.
As the mom of a daughter who faced a life-threatening illness, I know firsthand how overwhelming life can become when your child is sick. That experience is one of the reasons Lasagna Love's mission means so much to me.
Quite simply, Lasagna Love reminds families they are seen, supported, and not alone.
Supporting Families Beyond the Hospital
Families connected to Ronald McDonald House programs often experience unique challenges after a hospital stay including:
Balancing hospital visits and caregiving
Traveling back and forth for continued treatment
Managing financial pressure
Coping with emotional exhaustion
Caring for siblings while supporting a sick child
The challenges don't end when you come home. They continue throughout the treatment journey. Appointments, medications, exhaustion, financial strain, uncertainty, and emotional weight don't disappear once you walk out of the hospital doors. Even something as simple as deciding what to make for dinner can feel impossible when your focus is on keeping your child safe and cared for.
During that journey, acts of kindness that may seem small to others can feel enormous to a family walking through crisis. A homemade lasagna is more than food. It’s relief, comfort, support, and a reminder that you are not carrying everything alone.
While volunteer availability varies by community, Lasagna Love works to lighten the burden for families during difficult seasons of life.
How Lasagna Love Works
Families can request homemade lasagna through the Lasagna Love website and are matched with a local volunteer chef when one is available. Volunteers prepare and deliver the lasagna directly to families completely free of charge.
For families navigating medical uncertainty, caregiving responsibilities, or emotional exhaustion, receiving a lasagna can provide relief from one more decision, financial breathing room, comfort during stressful times, and a reminder that their community cares.
A Mission Rooted in Kindness
Lasagna Love operates on a simple belief: small acts of kindness can create meaningful human connection. Every lasagna delivered represents a neighbor helping another neighbor, not because they have to, but because kindness matters. In communities across the globe, volunteers show up every day to support complete strangers with compassion, generosity, and care.
If your family could use one less thing to worry about, or if you'd like to support another family in your community, visit Lasagna Love to request a meal, volunteer, or learn more about the organization's mission.
Because sometimes the most powerful support starts with something as simple as lasagna.
More from the Ronald McDonald House Resource Link:
What I Can't Fix: A Father's Perspective
I'm a fixer by trade, both personally and professionally. At work, I design and build furniture. At home, I'm the husband who fixes the lawnmower, the dryer, and the water heater. Most days, the list never ends.
Since having my daughter, Olive, I've learned how to fix wheelchairs, standers, and lifts. I've built ramps, designed an accessible changing table for her room, and modified her bed.
Dad fixes stuff.
But the harsh reality is that there are some things, many things, I can't fix.
I can't fix brain damage.
I can't fix Dystonia.
I can't fix Cerebral Palsy.
I can't fix how a large part of our society views and treats disabled children like Olive.
I can't fix broken healthcare and education systems.
I can't fix the fact that my wife and I rarely get a break from 24-hour caregiving at the same time.
I can't fix how inaccessible much of the world still is.
I can't fix how expensive everything Olive needs is.
I can't fix the fact that some people simply don't, or won't, get it.
As a dad, that's a hard pill to swallow.
The hard part about raising a medically complex child honestly doesn't have much to do with Olive. It took me a long time to come to that realization. Olive is easy. Olive doesn't need fixing. She is perfect. She's a really cool kid with a wicked sense of humor, and she makes me proud every single day.
What's hard is everything that comes with having a disabled child. Most days, we're like any other family. Then something happens, or something is said, that knocks the wind out of you. Recently, it was the delivery of adult-sized diapers. Olive has outgrown the cute pediatric ones. There is no in-between. Holding up a diaper designed to fit a grown adult is like a slap across the face. It reminds you of expectations you once had and the countless adjustments, concessions, and recalibrations you've made along the way, because that's what dads do.
Balancing love and joy with cyclical grief for twelve years running is like walking a tightrope that is actively on fire. Everyone else is admiring the act while I'm focused on keeping my balance and moving forward, fully aware of how high the stakes always are. Things can change on a dime.
I love everything about my daughter, and I will continue fixing every single thing I can for her. I just wish so much of the world around my daughter wasn't so broken. Because the truth is, Olive was never the thing that needed fixing.
The Courageous Parents Network (CPN) seeks to provide parents of medically complex children the courage and confidence to function, thrive and grow, knowing that they are not alone.
Additional Resources:
Read More from the Ronald McDonald House Resource Link:
Mothering Them Both: Showing Up for Siblings of Medically Complex Children
The Courageous Parents Network (CPN) seeks to provide parents of medically complex children the courage and confidence to function, thrive and grow, knowing that they are not alone. Kelsey shares her story alongside resources from the CPN.
My daughter Zoey was three and a half years old when she became a big sister. Like many parents expecting a second child, I spent my pregnancy thinking about how to help her adjust to sharing our attention with a new baby. What I couldn't prepare for was helping her become the sibling of a child with complex medical needs.
At five days old, her little sister Stella was diagnosed with two rare genetic conditions. She spent 35 days in the NICU before coming home under the care of eleven medical specialists. When Stella finally came home, Zoey’s introduction to sisterhood included learning about oxygen, feeding tubes, and infection control.
Supporting a Sibling Through Complexity
Caring for a sibling of a child with a serious medical condition isn’t something most parents feel prepared for. What helped us most was keeping things simple, honest, and centered on Zoey’s experience.
We learned to be honest, even when it was hard, use simple, age-appropriate language, follow Zoey’s lead in conversations and emotions, and lean on available support and resources.
We talked about how our bodies have “blueprints,” and that Stella’s worked differently. Zoey understood that everyone learns and grows in their own way. Stella not walking, talking, or eating the same way wasn’t “bad”, it just was.
Her questions were direct, and our answers were simple:
“Why can’t Stella eat this cookie?”
“Because her tummy works differently, and she’s still learning how to swallow. Her tube helps give her what she needs.”
“Okay. Can we do a puzzle now?”
Children process information in small, manageable pieces and then move forward. That’s something we learned to respect. The Courageous Parent's Network offers a toolkit to help navigate these conversations and early experiences.
Letting Your Child Lead
One of the most valuable lessons we learned was to follow Zoey’s lead, not just in what she said, but in how she behaved.
When things became especially heavy, like preparing for Stella’s death, we approached those conversations the same way: with honesty, simple language, and openness to Zoey’s cues.
The days leading up to Stella’s passing were spent together at her bedside, talking, creating art, and being present as a family. Zoey would shift between conversations about unicorns and questions about death. That emotional back-and-forth was how she processed and how she protected herself from becoming overwhelmed.
When it came time to say goodbye, we gave Zoey choices and honored them. She chose to be present. After Stella passed, she wanted to hold her and spend time with her body and we allowed that, for as long as she needed. It wasn’t easy. At times, it felt unnatural and deeply painful. But it was what Zoey needed to understand, grieve, and begin to process her loss. The Courageous Parent's Network offers resources for coping with loss.
You Don’t Have to Do This Alone
We could not have navigated this journey without support.
Child Life Specialists, nurses, physicians, and psychologists helped guide us in supporting Zoey. They provided insight into how children understand illness, death, and grief at different developmental stages. They encouraged us to include Zoey in Stella’s care, to invite her questions, and to create space for her experience as a sibling.
They also reminded us of something important: You don’t have to have all the answers to be a good parent. Showing up, being honest, and asking for help when you need it is enough.
This guide from the Courageous Parent's Network may help as you navigate your unique parenting journey: What Do We Mean When We Say, "Good Parent"? Guide by Courageous Parent Network
The Lasting Impact of Sibling Love
Stella passed away just before her second birthday. In their two years together, Zoey learned more than we could have ever imagined about love, sacrifice, resilience, and connection.
Today, Zoey is eight years old. She loves school, sports, drama, and her friends. Many of her friends never met Stella but they know her through Zoey’s stories, the photos in our home, and the way Zoey carries her forward. When Zoey sees white butterflies, unicorns, or heart shapes in nature, she believes Stella is saying hello.
I see in Zoey a deep empathy and emotional awareness that goes beyond her years. She is curious, inclusive, and eager to help others. Being Stella’s sister has shaped who she is and always will.
There are many things I continue to learn as Zoey’s mom. But one thing I feel certain about is this:
We walked alongside her, honestly, openly, and with support as she became a sister, and as she experienced loss. And in doing so, we helped her hold on to the most important thing of all: her connection to Stella.