Clara’s Story

This morning, our 7-monthold, Clara, shot me a sly, bright-eyed grin as globs of oatmeal migrated in slow motion down her chin. She has started chatting with herself in the dark pre-dawn hours, sometimes emitting a sweet, sing-song sigh. Whatever the hour, that sound is my kryptonite. I will never get enough of it.

There is so much to be grateful for with Clara. Thinking back to this time last year, however, is an anxiety-provoking exercise…with one exception: The Ronald McDonald House in Missoula, Montana. I was several months into my pregnancy when I learned I had a complication that could cause Clara’s premature entry into the world in a way that could endanger her life and
mine. A terrifying proposition. My doctor in Helena referred me to a specialist in Missoula.

I remember trying to swallow gallons of fear when he told me I needed to stay close to the hospital in case I went into labor. Minutes mattered. In the growing fog of worrying about Clara, the panic began to layer — how would I find a place to live close to the hospital on such short notice? Then the doctor mentioned what would be our saving grace that summer: The Ronald McDonald House.

The first thing I remember is Amy Peterson’s warm smile and welcome. I think she could read the strain on my face, despite my best efforts to conceal it. Her kindness, energy, and affability — along with that of her team — were steadfast in a time of fear and waiting. I know the other guests at the house felt the same. I could see it on their faces the way Amy saw it on mine — a teenage mom of twins in the NICU, the family of a toddler who had undergone multiple surgeries, another soon-to-be mom with a high risk pregnancy.

“The first thing I remember is Amy Peterson’s warm smile
and welcome. I think she could read the strain on my
face, despite my best efforts to conceal it.”

I tear up thinking about the generosity of the RMH and those who work there. It’s so much more than a roof over a stressed parent’s head. The team there is a living, breathing testament to what it means to be of service to others — particularly in hard times.

Over the nearly two months I was there, I watched as the volunteer at the front desk greeted an exhausted set of parents who had been walking back and forth to the NICU every few hours. I watched as members of the community restocked the community fridge and put treats out for the next day. I watched as staff coordinated with the hospital’s social worker to make sure the next me, or them — or you — had a place to lay their head if they needed to be close to the hospital. I will forever be grateful, not just to the RMH, but to the high character of their work day in and day out.

I think many of us, if we’ve been in the world long enough, have had an experience or two that remind us just how fragile life is. We are so lucky in Montana to have a place like the Ronald McDonald House to help lift up our friends and neighbors during one of the most scary times any parent will encounter. Today and every day, my husband and I celebrate the gift that is Clara. Every sound. Every smile. Every sweet, sing-song sigh. We are so grateful to the Ronald McDonald House for helping make our little family a reality.