Meet the Van Horn Family

Story from Mom, Taylor

When my water broke at 23 weeks, our world changed in an instant. I was life-flighted to Riley Children’s Hospital and was told our twins had only a 20% chance of survival. 

Twenty percent. 

At 24 weeks and 3 days, Leelan and Lynleigh were born — tiny, fragile, and fighting for every breath. 

The NICU became our world overnight. 

What we didn’t know then was that the Ronald McDonald House would become our home for the next 257 days.

Days filled with ventilators, surgeries, weight checks, and whispered prayers. Days where an ounce gained felt like a mountain moved. Days where fear tried to take over — but hope refused to leave. 

The first time I held one of my babies, days after they were born, wires and tubes covered their tiny body. I was terrified to move. Terrified to breathe too deeply. But in that moment, sitting under fluorescent lights, I felt something stronger than fear. I felt hope. 

The Ronald McDonald House gave us the ability to stay close during every terrifying setback and every hard-fought milestone. 

A warm bed after 12+ hour NICU days. A hot shower after crying when we thought no one was looking. A kitchen table where we could gather the strength to go back and do it all again tomorrow. 

Leelan fought hard from the beginning. After 198 days, he was released with no oxygen and no feeding issues, something we once feared would never happen. 

Lynleigh’s fight was even greater. She endured more complications, more procedures, more waiting. After 267 days, she came home with a tracheostomy, a G-tube, and the spirit of a warrior. 

Throughout it all, we were minutes away. Minutes away when doctors rounded. Minutes away when emergencies happened. Minutes away when miracles unfolded. 

When your babies have a 20% chance of survival, being close is not a luxury. It is everything. 

Because of the House, we didn’t have to choose between financial strain and being present. We didn’t have to drive exhausted. We didn’t have to miss critical moments. We were there — every single day — because donors made sure we could be. 

To the donors who support the Ronald McDonald House: please know your generosity held our family together. You gave us more than a place to sleep. You gave us the ability to show up for our babies during the hardest fight of their lives. 

To the staff and volunteers: you may see families during their worst days, but you are part of their miracles too. You greeted us by name. You stocked the pantry. You checked in when our eyes gave away that it had been a hard day. You carried us in ways you may never fully realize. 

When we finally packed up after 257 days, we weren’t just leaving a building.  

We were leaving the place that carried us while our children fought to live. 
 

Today, both of our babies are here. They have faced major struggles — and they have overcome them. 

They are proof that statistics don’t always decide the ending. Hope does. And because of the Ronald McDonald House, we never walked that journey alone.  

257 days. Two miracles. One house that held us together. We will forever be grateful!