Watch Audrey and Brinley's Story here!
Quick Note to the Reader: What we’ve lovingly known as the playroom (or play space, depending on the day) will be proudly referred to as the craft room throughout this article. A big thank-you to Audrey and Brinley for the very official and very adorable name upgrade.
There are stories that announce themselves loudly. And then there are stories that arrive quietly, holding a glue stick in one hand, a paper star in the other, asking, very politely, if they can show you something they made.
This story does the second thing.
It begins in rural Michigan, “where two dirt roads collide and you’re staring at corn fields all over the place,” as Haley explains later. It stretches all the way to New York City, past two big front doors, a front desk with a joke of the day, a craft room that moves floors but never loses its soul, and a seven-year-old who knows exactly how to explain community in three words: “Lots of people.”
It is a story about Audrey.
And Brinley.
And their mom, Haley.
And their grandma, Shirley.
And about a place that figured out how to make space for all four of them at the same time.
Two Girls, One Birthday, and a Very Michigan Kind of Morning
Audrey and Brinley are twins. They are seven. Brinley would like everyone to know she is turning eight in April. Audrey would like everyone to know where Stanton, Michigan is located: “north of Grand Rapids and south of the bridge.” True story.
At home, their days are wonderfully ordinary and filled with family.
“The twins get up. They get ready for school. I drive into the bus stop, which is about 10 minutes from us,” Haley says. There are dogs involved. Two of them. Mitzi, a miniature dachshund, is “so tiny.” Bo, a ridgeback mix, is the undisputed favorite. Even the girls agree.
Afternoons are filled with Barbies—so many Barbies—coloring, dinner, and bed. It is the kind of routine that makes a disruption feel seismic when it arrives.
Audrey’s arrived early.
The Cherry Strawberry That Changed Everything
Audrey and Brinley were born at 30 weeks and three days. Premature, yes, but very strong.
“They were fine,” Haley says. “Came out breathing, great.”
Then there was Audrey’s nose.
“This one had this cherry strawberry on her nose,” Haley explains. At first, everyone thought it was a bruise. It wasn’t.
Doctors identified it as a hemangioma. Specifically, a segmental clefting hemangioma—a benign infantile tumor that grows and can ulcerate, causing tissue loss.
“For Audrey, her hemangioma encompassed her entire nose and her lip,” Haley says. “And so as it ulcerated up, the tissue went away.”
No one in the family had ever experienced this before. Haley did what parents do when the ground shifts beneath them.
“At that point, I started Googling and looking for all of the information, because we didn’t know what it was.”
Eventually, their path led to the Vascular Birthmark Institute in New York City, where Audrey began working with Dr. Theresa O and Dr. Weiner.
“Cannot tell you how amazing those two human beings are,” Haley says. “They have given us guidance and support and literature and everything we needed to know to help Audrey.”
Surgery became part of Audrey’s vocabulary before she ever finished learning how to spell it.
Surgery, Explained by a Seven-Year-Old
Audrey talks about surgery the way only a child can—honestly, thoughtfully, and without drama.
“Surgery is like—it’s really great,” she says. “Just those two nights I can’t really sleep that well, because I’m getting used to sleeping like that.”
She talks about stitches with matter-of-fact pride.
“It’s pretty great having stitches because it will probably—okay—someday I will look a little bit more different like this, but I will always have a hemangioma.”
Brinley, meanwhile, carries surgery differently.
“I feel scared,” she says. “I feel like something’s gonna happen to her… I get worried because I’m protective of my sister. I don’t want anything to happen to her.”
This is what pediatric medical journeys often look like. One child healing. One child watching. One parent holding both realities at once.
And then, thankfully, there is a place where that can happen without explanation.
The Doors That Look Scary Until They Open
The first time the family arrived at Ronald McDonald House New York, Haley noticed the doors.
“At first, it’s intimidating,” she says. “You’ve got these two large doors… and you have usually a gentleman sitting there checking you in.”
That part felt unfamiliar. Very un-Michigan.
But then something shifted.
“Within the first few minutes, you’re saying hi to others. They’re greeting you. They’re showing you this little board that has all the list of dinners or the lunches—joke of the day at the bottom,” Haley says. “Just those little details really help to bring in that community connection.”
Community is a word that comes up a lot with this family. They use it carefully. Intentionally.
“Most time when you think of New York, you’re like, ‘Oh, it’s the Big Apple, keep your head down,’” Haley says. “But everyone here has just been lovely.”
For Shirley, the intimidation was real.
“I had only experienced New York just from the news, so I was very intimidated, very scared,” she says.
Then she met a breakfast volunteer from Canada.
“I expressed a little bit of my concern, and she just talked me right through it.”
That’s how safety begins sometimes. Over coffee. With someone who listens.
The Craft Room, Explained Correctly (By the Experts)
If this story had a capital city, it would be the craft room.
Audrey does not hesitate.
“I personally love the craft room because there’s lots of nice people there. Nadia, she’s really nice,” she says. “She lets you craft with whatever you want that’s on those shelves.”
There are movies. Magnet tiles. Volunteers. Friends.
“I made a big house with my friends,” Audrey says. “And it was really cool.”
Brinley agrees—especially about one very specific detail.
“One time Nadia let me eat chocolate when we were watching a movie.”
Friendships form quickly here. Deeply. Internationally.
Brinley talks about Maryum and Mavis. Audrey made heart curlers at home in Michigan and brought them back to New York just in case Maryum was still there.
She was.
“She came bouncing back upstairs and was like, ‘Audrey, she’s here, she’s here,’” Haley recalls.
They play. They craft. They watch movies. They don’t ask questions that don’t need asking.
“Nobody’s gonna point at you or laugh at you,” Audrey says. “Everybody’s different here.”
Stars, Snacks, and a Holiday That Traveled Well
During this stay, the craft room transformed into something else too—a place to learn culture by making it with your hands.
They made Filipino stars.
“I made a blue, silver and pink one,” Audrey says.
Brinley’s lights up purple.
There were Filipino snacks. Music. A room full of people crafting together.
“It was a really cool experience,” Haley says.
The holidays filled the House in ways that felt intentional, not overwhelming.
“Everything’s like Christmas,” Audrey says. “I love that you named the games Reindeer Games.”
Reindeer Games and 31 Days of Cheer
Reindeer Games is a House favorite that first trotted onto the scene in 2024—and it’s been bringing big laughs and friendly competition ever since. Designed for everyone to jump in, these playful challenges are easy to run and even easier to enjoy, using just a few simple supplies: pens, pads of paper, marshmallows or cotton balls, a handful of plastic cups, and plenty of good sportsmanship.
The 2025 Reindeer Games lineup delivered holiday fun in full force with Snow Ball Fight in a Bowl, Man-Made Avalanche Contest, When Reindeers Draw Frosty, and Dasher’s Cup Stacking Challenge. Families, kids, and caregivers gathered on Monday, December 15, 2025, to cheer one another on, share a few giggles, and turn an ordinary winter evening into a joyful memory—proof that sometimes the simplest games create the biggest smiles.
Shirley noticed the details.
“The Christmas decorations are beautiful here, really over and above, above and beyond,” she says.
They ventured out carefully—Bryant Park, Aladdin on Broadway, Central Park Zoo.
One day after Audrey’s surgery, Shirley took Brinley on a special trip with the New York Police Department.
“The timing was perfect,” she says. “That was the day after Audrey’s surgery… we were able to have a day of fun for Brinley, but yet let Audrey rest.”
Brinley sums it up succinctly.
“I got a day to myself.”
Meals That Feel Like Home (Even When They’re Yellow)
Dinner at Ronald McDonald House New York comes with opinions. Some nights are better than others.
“How do you beat short ribs and a beautiful salad?” Shirley asks.
Other nights involve adaptation.
“If we don’t like something, we eat the thing that we like and make the best of it,” Audrey explains.
There is always something else available.
Mac and cheese. Ramen. Chef Boyardee.
“They never go to bed hungry,” Shirley says. “That feels like home too.”
Haley, who has a gluten allergy, was surprised.
“There’s been a lot of things that I have been able to eat,” she says. “Normally I survive off protein bars if we go anywhere.”
Audrey captures the difference between a hotel and this place perfectly.
“At the Ronald McDonald House, you could just grab something from the pantry. It feels a little like home.”
We Actually Focus on the Whole Family
Ask Shirley what matters most, and she doesn’t hesitate.
“The security part of it,” she says. “It feels very secure, very safe and very comfortable.”
Ask Haley, and the answer deepens.
“You forget about you as a caregiver,” she says. “You’re just navigating, planning.”
Then someone offers a massage. Or a coffee made to order.
“For the fact that someone asks me my order—where I’m always asking ‘What can I get you?’—that was huge,” Haley says.
This is family-centered care in practice. Holistic care that understands the emotional support required doesn’t stop with the pediatric patient.
It wraps around the whole family.
What It Means to Belong Somewhere Without Explaining Yourself
Back home, Audrey has learned how to answer questions.
“Some people ask me, ‘What’s that?’” she says.
At Ronald McDonald House New York, no one asks.
“They don’t point at you and say, ‘What’s that?’” Brinley explains. “They don’t laugh at you.”
Shirley calls it a comfort zone.
“Everybody encourages one another, and we’re happy for milestones—for all the families.”
Haley calls it community, and she uses the word carefully.
“It’s not like a hotel,” she says. “It’s a little hub.”
Audrey defines it best.
“The community is nice. They’re loving and they’re really caring for others.”
What They Would Tell the Next Family
Shirley starts with practical wisdom.
“Ask questions. Seek out the front desk. Read the publications. Check the board,” she says.
Brinley keeps it simple.
“It’s safe here,” she says. “If you ask someone where something is, they’ll show you.”
Audrey would send them straight to the craft room.
“You need to go check out stuff there,” she insists. “There’s lots of crafts.”
And Haley speaks to the people who make all of this possible.
“Ronald McDonald House is worth every donation you could give,” she says. “Without those donations, we wouldn’t have a place to stay that’s calm, supportive, nurturing and safe.”
More Than a House, As Defined by Four Voices
Audrey goes first.
“It is a loving community where each and another can help another,” she says.
Brinley adds directions and enthusiasm.
“It’s a loving place where people meet you—‘Hi, good morning,’” she says.
Shirley speaks as a grandmother.
“It supports the whole family,” she says. “Not just Audrey, but Haley too.”
And Haley closes the circle.
“Ronald McDonald House New York is more than a house,” she says. “It’s probably one of the biggest blessings our family has had.”
Some stories shout.
This one crafts its way into your heart, one paper star at a time.
