Through Isla’s Eyes: A Sibling Journey
In 2021, we welcomed our healthy baby boy into the world, bringing more love and joy to our family than we knew was humanly possible. Our family of three became a family of four, and Isla, five years old at the time, beautifully transitioned into her role as a big sister.
Her little world was already changing as she started kindergarten, and like any mom, I spent a significant amount of time wondering what our new family dynamic would look like.
Our hearts were so full, and any worries we had quickly faded as we settled into our new normal. I realized we had given our children the greatest gift - each other.
When Everything Changed
That sense of normalcy shifted again when Finn was hospitalized later that year. At just six months old, he was diagnosed with Infantile Spasms, a rare and critical seizure disorder. Within 24 hours, our family was thrust into emergency care, long drives in and out of the city, and an uncertain future.
While Finn became the center of urgent medical attention, another story unfolded quietly alongside his, the experience of his big sister, Isla.
In the middle of fear, hospital stays, and constant transitions, Isla’s world changed again. She has always been a child who thrives on routine and feels deeply, and at an age when routine means everything, hers disappeared overnight.
A New Normal for Isla
Billy and I were stretched thin, trading shifts between home and hospital, scrambling for childcare, and trying to be present for both of our children while barely holding things together. Like many siblings in these situations, Isla could feel the stress, even if she didn’t fully understand it.
Our attempt to be everywhere at once, while feeling like we were never quite succeeding, is something Isla felt deeply. It’s something siblings often absorb in ways adults don’t always see.
At the time, COVID protocols meant Isla wasn’t permitted in the hospital, adding yet another challenge to our already fragile balance. Not only was she experiencing the loss of her routine, but she was also missing her family and worrying about her baby brother and best friend.
Finding a Place for Our Family
Following the advice of a close friend and our social worker, we reached out to the Cleveland Ronald McDonald House to see if there was a place for us.
Everything shifted when we found support there, a place we would call home for the next week. The greatest blessing was that we could bring Isla with us.
For Isla, the Ronald McDonald House didn’t feel like an extension of the hospital. It felt like something entirely different. To this day, she remembers it as an adventure. The House felt like a hotel to her, and she often said it felt like a vacation.
We could be present at Finn’s bedside, then walk across the street to be with Isla, sharing meals, playing, resting, and decompressing so we could return to Finn refreshed.
A Place to Just Be a Kid
She picked out breakfast and snacks each morning. She met therapy dogs. She played with books, dolls, and art supplies and explored the fenced-in outside playground and garden.
She laughed, explored, and had the space to simply be a kid. Most importantly, she was with her family.
That contrast, between the seriousness of Finn’s condition and Isla’s experience of warmth, play, and routine, speaks to something essential about siblings in medical crises.
Children don’t process hardship the same way adults do. What they need isn’t just information...it’s stability, comfort, and moments that still feel like childhood.
At the House, Isla found exactly that while remaining close to us.
Siblings Need to Feel Seen and Included
For siblings, being included, physically and emotionally, can make all the difference. As we witnessed, separation often adds to confusion and fear. Being together, even in difficult circumstances, creates a sense of security that words alone can’t provide.
Siblings like Isla often carry invisible emotional weight. We knew from an early age that Isla feels deeply, and during Finn’s journey, we noticed a new sense of anxiety emerge.
Kids sense when something is wrong. They adapt quickly. And sometimes, they quietly set aside their own needs in response to what their family is going through.
When given the right environment, one that prioritizes both care and normalcy, they can remain what they are meant to be: kids.
Making Space for Isla’s Feelings
One of the most valuable resources for us was the Child Life department support provided through the hospital, along with children’s psychiatry services. Providers regularly checked in on Isla, how she was coping and what support we might need. Our social worker was instrumental in connecting us with these resources.
Shortly after Finn’s diagnosis, we began outpatient therapy for Isla with a provider who understood our family’s story. This gave her a dedicated space to process her thoughts, feelings, worries, fears, and questions.
We made it a priority to support her social and emotional needs just as much as Finn’s and our own. We gave her space to ask questions, to feel heard, and to simply be a child.
Coming Home Together
I remember the day Finn was discharged home. It was a day filled with snuggles, giggles, and more hugs than we could count.
Watching our children reunite is a moment I will carry with me forever.
Our journey didn’t end there. The following year brought frequent follow-up visits, physical and occupational therapy, a strict medication regimen, and limited exposure to others due to Finn’s fragile immunocompromised state.
Through it all, we remained intentional about supporting Isla.
We gave her age-appropriate roles in Finn’s care, carved out one-on-one time with her, continued her therapy, and worked to maintain as much normalcy in her routine as possible.
Looking Back Through Isla’s Eyes
Today, Finn is four, thriving, happy, strong, and preparing to start pre-K. We are beyond grateful for his positive prognosis.
Isla is now nine. She's full of life, brilliant, and deeply resilient.
She remembers much of that time, but what stands out most to her are the positive memories: our stay at the Ronald McDonald House and the support of the care team who carried us through.
We’ve made it a point to keep conversations open, allowing both of our children to ask questions and share their feelings about our journey.
What We Learned as a Family
My biggest advice to any family navigating a medical journey with multiple children is this: ask for help and accept it.
The support you need is out there, and it can make all the difference, not just for the child receiving care, but for the siblings walking alongside them.
Isla’s journey reminds us that even in the hardest moments, children are capable of incredible resilience when they feel safe, seen, and included.
While Finn’s diagnosis changed our family forever, it also showed us the strength that exists within each of us, especially in the quiet, often unseen experiences of siblings.
Through Isla’s eyes, we learned that healing isn’t just about medicine or milestones. It’s also about connection, presence, and preserving the simple moments of childhood, even in the middle of uncertainty.
More from the Ronald McDonald House Resource Link:
Lisa Vagi, APRN-CNM, is a Certified Nurse Midwife with over a decade of experience in women’s and neonatal healthcare, including nine years as a NICU nurse and four years in midwifery practice. She is passionate about supporting women’s health and has had the privilege of caring for growing families throughout the Cleveland and Lorain County communities.
Lisa and her family were once guests of the Ronald McDonald House of Cleveland, an experience that continues to shape her commitment to service. She now proudly serves the organization as a trustee.