We are dancing to make a difference for sick kids like Ethan.

Our journey began sixteen years ago when our son Ethan was just eight months old. Ethan has always been small for his age—he still is. As a mother who exclusively breastfed, it was difficult to hear the words, “Your son needs to start on formula. He is failing to gain weight.” At the time, those words were hard to accept, but little did I know they would end up saving Ethan’s life.

On the night Ethan tried his first formula bottle, I noticed his abdomen was slightly distended, hard on one side—something felt wrong. The next day, I made a GP appointment and was fortunate to get in right away—a small miracle in itself. The doctor was concerned enough to order urgent blood tests and a stat ultrasound.

Within less than six hours, we went from the GP to an ultrasound, then to a paediatrician, and finally we received the news that no parent ever wants to hear—our son had cancer. We clung to the reassurance that it was a “good” type of cancer, something Ethan could overcome. Within a week, our tiny boy was scheduled for his very first, and far from his last, major surgery. 

Ethan was officially diagnosed with stage 1 Wilms tumour. The entire tumour, that was the size of a small football along with his right kidney, was removed in a single surgery. He barely had time to recover before beginning chemotherapy. Remarkably, Ethan faced each challenge with a resilience beyond his years. His strength made his diagnosis a little easier for us to bear.

Sadly, that strength was soon tested further. As parents, we sensed something wasn’t right just before Ethan was due to complete his very last chemotherapy. He had just celebrated his first birthday, but new scans and biopsies revealed the devastating news—his cancer had returned, this time to his liver and right lung, where the tumour had also attached to his pericardium. Ethan was formallydiagnosed with stage 4 Metastatic Wilms Tumour.

This time, doctors were no longer able to offer us much reassurance. We were told, with honesty and compassion, that Ethan would now be fighting for his life and that the odds were no longer in his favour. Just down the corridor, another family was receiving life-altering news- their little girl, Bella had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer.  At that moment none of us could have imagined how close our families would become.  

Just over twelve hours later—Ethan began an aggressive relapse chemotherapy protocol, which included stem cell rescues, radiation, and countless surgeries, including partial lung and liver resections. Bella also began her treatment in that very same room on that very same day, a strong friendship was formed from that very first moment we first meet. By coincidence, Ethan and Bella’s treatment routines aliened, and both children were the same age. Through shared challenges and hope, we formed a bond that carried us through some of the most difficult days. 

Six months later, on the very day that Ethan was scheduled to undergo life-saving liver surgery, we received the heartbreaking news that Bella was losing her battle with cancer. I will never forget sitting with Bella and her mum, all of us in tears — overwhelmed by the deep and painful contrast of our journeys. Ethan was about to take his next vital step forward, climbing what felt like an impossible mountain, while Bella and her beautiful family were being left at the bottom.
In that moment of unimaginable grief, Bella’s mum looked at us and, with incredible strength and grace, told Ethan and I to go on and fight strong. I carry her words with me to this day. That moment was the last time I saw Bella — a memory etched with both sorrow and profound love.

Christmas that year was one of the most challenging our family has ever experienced. Ethan was still recovering from his liver surgery. The medication he needed for pain relief was so strong that he couldn’t even open his eyes or unwrap any of his gifts.
To compound an already difficult day, we also learned that Ethan’s little friend, Bella, had lost her brave battle with cancer on Christmas Eve. Even now, I cannot truly fathom the overwhelming grief her family must have felt—and continues to face. Our hearts ache for them; their courage and resilience remain a testament to the strength found in the deepest love and the hardest times.

Yet, amid those difficult circumstances, Ronald McDonald House brought hope and comfort by hosting a special Christmas celebration for families like ours. 
Even in the darkest moments, Ronald McDonald House created opportunities for us to find joy, surrounded by lifelong friends we had met through this journey—friends we hold dear to this day. For a little while, we were able to step outside of our reality and experience the true spirit of Christmas. It meant the world to us.

Ethan was two years old when he finally finished thefight of his life, and defied all odds. But it was not to be his last. At the end of 2022, Ethan developed another tumour on his remaining kidney—twelve years since he’d finished his relapse treatment. Though this tumour grew very slowly, it changed over time and had to be removed last year. To everyone’s astonishment, this time the diagnosis was different: stage 1, grade 2 clear cell renal cell carcinoma, an entirely different and unrelated form of kidney cancer.  An old person's disease they had called it.

Lilly:

When Ethan was in the hospital after surgery, I spent most of my day there, watching the nurses and doctors come and go. The day before my dad and I had to leave, I remember a team of doctors coming in to talk to my parents about Ethan’s test results.  I didn’t understand everything they said, but I felt something change in the room. After the Doctors left, my dad stepped out to make a phone call. My mum sat next to me and gently told me that Ethan had cancer again but a different kind this time. He’d had it before, but this time I felt it more because I was older and knew what it meant. It meant more hospital visits and feeling anxious all the time, worried about Ethan’s health. 

The next day was probably the worst day I ever had. I just wanted to be there for Ethan, but my dad had to work, and I couldn’t miss my very first day of high school. That day my family were able to stay together for the last few hours in privacy because of Ronald McDonald House.  It had meant that we were able to spend some quality time away from the hospital to say our goodbyes together. Ronald McDonald House was only a few steps away if Ethan needed any medical attention.  That had meant a lot to my whole family. When it was time to leave, my Dad and I cried and cried. It really was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

Over the last 16 years, our relationship with Ronald McDonald House Charities has been one of unwavering support and connection. I still vividly remember the first time we were shown around the House. The house that love built is something truly special—it is felt in every corner. From the very first day, it was clear that for the people who work at Ronald McDonald House Charities, this is far more than just a job—it is their passion and their life’s work.

We have, in fact, spent over 600 nights at Ronald McDonald House—nearly two years of our lives. When you’re facing what families like ours go through, the thought of finding accommodation, or even being able to afford it while one parent is away from work, can be overwhelming. The reality is, you simply could not manage it on your own. But how could any parent ever sacrifice their child’s care because of financial hardship?

For us, Ronald McDonald House Charities has truly been a second family. The bond we share goes beyond words. Recently, when we returned to the House, Ethan said, “it smells like home”—and I couldn’t agree more. That House has been a home to him, and to all of us.

But our connection with Ronald McDonald House Charities doesn't end there. We have been involved with the Learning Program. Both Ethan and Lilly have received tutoring in two subjects each. For children who are unwell and miss a lot of school, programs like this are vital—they’ve allowed Ethan to keep up with his studies while also prioritising his health.

Another incredible program that Ronald McDonald House Charities offers is their Family Retreats. Our family has been fortunate enough to benefit from this wonderful initiative, first when Ethan finished chemotherapy at just two years old, and again in March this year.
We stayed at Fiona Lodge in Batemans Bay, NSW—a place that gave us the gift of time together, away from all the pressures of daily life, work, and medical appointments. For a whole week, we were able to reconnect as a family, simply enjoying one another’s company and participating in activities provided at the retreat. For Ethan, the highlight was astrophotography—a passion he’s cherished for the past year. Thanks to the remote location, he was able to capture stunning photographs of the night sky, creating treasured memories for all of us.