Ronald McDonald House

We've been blessed along this journey in many ways. When Gordon and I walked out of St. Mary's hospital at 11PM on the 11th of April with nothing but the clothes we wore, we just somehow knew that we'd land somewhere safe. Besides, nanette was all we thought about. Gordon drove all night and we hit the emergency room door here at Emanuel at about 3:00. Nanette came in about a half hour later in a little cigar-shaped space ship looking thing via ambulance to Walla Walla airport, fixed-wing plane to PDX and another ambulance to Emanuel.

(By the way, although Carter was about six months old the first time he flew to Florida with us, at four hours old, Nanette holds the record for youngest Cooke kid to ever rack up frequent flyer miles.)

While Nanette got tucked into the NICU, Gordon and I sat downstairs and drank Mocha Lattes in the Atrium. We came back up at about five or six that morning looking like hobos with no where to go. The nurses suggested the Ronald McDonald House. Of course, our first thought was cheeseburgers and fries (maybe we were a bit hungry.)

At eleven, we wandered down to the RMH. From the NICU, it takes about five minutes to walk (downhill.) The place is amazing. Laundry facilities, a huge dining room and full kitchen, a library, computer access, and rooms that rival the Marriott (at least from our weary point of view.) We got JoAnn and Angie moved in so they could have easy access to Nanette. Every evening a local group brings in dinner. We are cared for in every way. In return, we do a few chores, like take out the garbage, clean the kitchen, do the dishes.

There's only way to really understand how important all these little things are - and that's to have a sick baby. Crisis brings the minute details of life into stark relief - a place to sleep, a place to eat, someone to say 'hi', a place to clean up and a place to sneak away and cry sometimes.

We don't see our fellow travelers much, but when we do, we instantly know we are family. Maybe even closer than that. We work side by side in the kitchen, pitching in, mostly in silent harmony. No one has to say anything. We know we share a bond. It's place in our hearts that loves and hurts and worries and feels joy, all at the same time.

Every time I walk down that hill and into the doors of this house, I feel gratitude. Deep gratitude.

To anyone who reads this and who has ever donated time or talent or treasure to make this unique gift to the families of Emanuel's children, I humbly thank you. Know that what you have done has touched our lives and helped to ease our burdens.