A diagnosis that changed everything 

Rob and Allison Spinelli were still months away from meeting their first child when their world cracked open. At 24 weeks into Allison’s pregnancy, doctors delivered news that no parent ever expects: the left side of their baby’s heart hadn’t developed. 

“It’s called hypoplastic left heart syndrome,” Rob explains. “Essentially, the left side of Amelia’s heart is just a solid muscle. It doesn’t pump blood at all.” 

In that moment, the life they imagined as first-time parents disappeared. There would be no gentle transition into family life. No quiet nights at home with their newborn. Instead, there would be open-heart surgeries. Endless hospital days. The unshakable fear that their daughter might not survive. 

“We didn’t know what was coming next,” Rob remembers. “One minute we were preparing for a normal delivery. The next we were facing the reality that our baby would need three surgeries to even have a chance.” 

Amelia was born on February 8, 2022, at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto. The delivery was complicated, and Allison was heavily medicated. Rob rushed across University Avenue to SickKids alone to meet his daughter for the first time. 

“A lot of people asked what it was like, meeting my daughter,” he says. “But the truth is, it didn’t feel like that moment belonged to me. It felt stolen — from Allison, from me, from Amelia. Instead of joy, it was fear.” 

For nearly two months, Amelia remained at SickKids recovering from her first surgery, the Norwood — a procedure designed to reroute her tiny heart enough to keep her alive. Rob and Allison stayed close by at Ronald McDonald House Toronto. 

Family stays 

When a child is seriously ill, visitors come and go. They bring balloons, cards, soft words. But then they leave. Parents don’t have that choice. Family stays. 

Rob and Allison knew they needed to stay close to Amelia — to advocate for her, to comfort her, to give her every ounce of strength they could. But staying in Toronto for weeks at a time came with an impossible price tag. It can cost up to $24,500 to be by a sick child’s side during the first month of treatment — almost one-third of the average Ontario family’s disposable income. 

That’s when Ronald McDonald House Toronto became more than just a place to sleep. 

“In 2022, when Amelia was first born, we stayed in a family suite at Ronald McDonald House,” Rob recalls. “Because of COVID, we had to quarantine. It was strange — the House felt like a ghost town. But we had a kitchen, a bed, space to breathe. Without that, I don’t know what we would have done.” 

Even in those quiet, restricted days, the House gave them what they needed most: rest, warmth, and the reassurance that they weren’t alone. 

The long road back 

Amelia’s medical journey was mapped out in stages. The Norwood at birth. The Glenn at six months. And finally, the Fontan — the surgery that would allow her heart to function as best it could, though never perfectly. 

Between surgeries, life was both ordinary and not. “Honestly, if we don’t tell you about her condition, you wouldn’t know,” Rob says. “She’s a really, really smart kid. The only time you notice is on really hot days, when her breathing gets laboured. Her oxygen levels hover in the high 80s or low 90s. But otherwise? She just wants to play, like every other kid.” 

Amelia grew. She went to daycare. She became a big sister when her brother Oliver was born in 2023. But hospital life was never far away. When Amelia had an emergency that kept her in SickKids for five weeks, Oliver was just a baby. “I feel bad for him,” Rob admits. “He spent so much of his first year waiting with us at the hospital instead of learning to walk.” 

A home in the hardest times 

By the time Amelia faced her third surgery — the Fontan — in October 2024, the Spinellis knew exactly where they needed to be: Ronald McDonald House Toronto. This time, pandemic restrictions had lifted, and the House felt alive again. 

“It was such a different experience,” Rob says. “There were other families around, and we actually made friends. There was one family in particular — I broke down a few times, and they were just there for me. That meant so much.” 

For six weeks, Ronald McDonald House Toronto became their home base. Chef-prepared meals meant Rob and Allison didn’t have to choose between eating and being at Amelia’s bedside. “The meals were honestly so good,” Rob laughs. “Even the brown bag lunches. Just a sandwich, but it meant we could spend more time at the hospital.” 

There were moments of joy, too. Amelia was semi-discharged on the condition that she stayed close at Ronald McDonald House Toronto, and for the first time she experienced the House herself. She played with Ceili, the visiting therapy dog. She tried her hand in the woodshop. She and her dad made trips to the library. 

“She loved it,” Rob says. “She really loves animals, and she loved Ceili. For us, it was just knowing we had this place — ten minutes from SickKids — where we could regroup, rest, and be together.” 

The unseen toll 

None of it was easy. Rob admits he went on stress leave from work because he couldn’t risk getting sick before Amelia’s surgery. He spent long hours commuting back and forth between Oshawa and Toronto during one hospital stay, because his days off had run out. And no matter how hard he tried, Amelia always wanted her mom at her side in the hospital. 

“My daughter is all about mom,” Rob says. “I wanted to stay sometimes, but if she wanted mom, she wanted mom. That was hard.” 

Still, Ronald McDonald House Toronto gave him space to cope. Sometimes, it was as simple as cooking. “Whenever I cooked in the big kitchen, I joked with Allison that it felt like being on a cooking show. We’d all be there, making meals, competing over who found the best knife. It sounds silly, but those little things helped keep me sane.” 

Other times, it meant escaping for a walk through nearby Kensington Market. “There’s a really good cheese shop and a donut place there,” Rob admits with a grin. “It was a way to clear my head. Because if you just sit in your room, you lose yourself in your thoughts.” 

Gratitude that runs deep 

Looking back now, Rob sees how much Ronald McDonald House Toronto shaped their family. 

“It definitely brought us closer,” he says. “I think the main thing is that it kept us together. It gave us space when we needed to breathe, and it gave us connection when we needed to talk. Without it, we’d have been commuting every day, exhausted and apart.” 

He wants other families arriving at the House for the first time to know the same truth. “Use everything,” he urges. “The meals, the programs, the chance to connect with other families. Don’t be afraid to lean on it, because that’s what it’s there for. It lets you spend more time where you need to be: with your child.” 

Family stays. And so do we. 

Amelia is now three and a half. She runs, plays, and dreams big. Her oxygen levels may never be perfect, and a transplant may lie in her future, but today she is here — laughing with her brother, exploring her world, and teaching her parents what resilience looks like. 

For the Spinellis, the journey is far from over. But they know one thing for certain: when Amelia needs them, they will stay. And Ronald McDonald House Toronto will stay with them. 

As Rob puts it: “We never could have made it through this without Ronald McDonald House Toronto — and without the people who support it. You gave us more than a place to stay. You gave us hope.”