This one's for Atlas.
GIVING BACK
Every year, thousands of families get news that rocks their world in a way they never thought possible. Ours came when Atlas was 17 months old. Here's a little bit about his story and more about the organization that saved his life.
When my son Atlas was 14 months old, we noticed a funny eye movement. It looked like he was always giving everyone (and everything) the side eye. We brought him to a neurologist and an optometrist to make sure things were alright. Both specialists felt things looked good, but just to be safe, his optometrist ordered an MRI.
During that MRI, they found a growth in his brain. At first, we were told it could be nothing, so we tried not to panic. We waited. Three months later, at his follow-up MRI, I was sitting with Atlas as he woke up from anesthesia when I looked up and saw his neurologist standing over us. She told us the growth had doubled in size and needed to be removed immediately. The next morning, at 17 months old, Atlas underwent emergency brain surgery.
Three days later, while he was recovering, his doctors came in and gave us the diagnosis: medulloblastoma, an aggressive form of brain cancer. From that moment on, our lives changed completely.
After weighing our options, the following week we packed up and drove 1,300 miles from Connecticut to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital in Memphis, Tennessee. Atlas’s father stayed home to keep working, because unfortunately bills don’t stop when your child has cancer. My mother, who had thankfully recently retired, moved down with us in his place.
Over the next eight months, Atlas went through eight rounds and 48 doses of high-dose chemotherapy. It was the most unbearable season of our lives. But in the middle of all of it, St. Jude gave our family something we did not know was possible: hope, support, and the chance to focus on Atlas.
That experience changed me forever. I donate a portion of every project I take on to St. Jude because I believe deeply in what they do, and I want them to be able to do it for as many families as possible.
When we made that drive to Memphis, we really didn't know what to expect. We had some really tough days. But one thing was always true: St. Jude did everything they could to make sure the kids in that hospital were taken care of, and so were their families.
They provided us with housing, food, community, and of course, free medical care. Every month, they flew out whoever we needed — Atlas's father, grandparents, family, friends — because they know that a sick child needs more than medicine. They put on special events for the children so they could experience real moments of joy in the middle of it all. The level of care they give to families going through something this hard is immeasurable.
We will never be able to fully repay what they gave us. So a portion of every project I take on goes back to them in Atlas's honor, and in honor of every family still going through it.
So much more than treatment.
From the moment we arrived, it was clear that St. Jude understood something most people don't — that when a child is sick, the whole family needs taking care of.
ST. JUDE
Jacy's Wagons — for the long days.
A nonprofit started by a family who lived through childhood cancer and refused to walk away without making things a little easier for the families behind them.
Also Supporting
In 2022, Jacy became a St. Jude patient. Her family spent months traveling back and forth for surgeries and treatment, and the whole time they kept asking themselves how they could do something for the families around them.
The answer came during a routine appointment. They noticed a mom weighed down with everything she was carrying, her child lying in one of the small red wagons the hospital loans out, legs too long to fit, pillows tucked around him just to make it bearable.
That was the moment they knew.
They went home and started Jacy's Wagons. Today they donate Wonderfold Wagons to families at St. Jude and children's hospitals across the country. Roomy, comfortable wagons that give kids somewhere real to rest between appointments.
It sounds simple. During a twelve-hour hospital day, it makes all the difference.
