#RallyKid Ricky's Fundraiser

Rally Kid Ricky's Story

On June 1, 2005, Richard Allen James III, my firstborn, blessed my life. It was a perfect pregnancy, but his breach delivery led to complications and an overcrowded delivery room. Ricky entered the world at 1:10pm, already making a statement. He was witty, loving, gentle—an old soul. On April 1, 2007, at 22 months old, Ricky was diagnosed with Stage IV Embryonal rhabdomyosarcoma. A 6.3 cm tumor blocked his rectum. I was 4.5 months pregnant with our daughter, Erin, and our world flipped upside-down. Ricky began chemo and, in July, started 52 days of radiation. Erin was born on August 8, 2007, and from three weeks old, she never left Ricky’s side during hospital stays. In February 2008, he was declared NED (No Evidence of Disease)—but two months later, the cancer returned. Ricky underwent a second, more aggressive round of chemo and major surgery in September 2008. He never complained, embracing life with a urostomy bag and explaining his condition to others with remarkable grace. From November to February, we lived in the hospital, quarantined due to infections. Still, we clung to hope. Then—NED again. For six months, we found a new normal. But in August 2009, scans showed the cancer had spread to his lungs. We began treatment for a third time. The motto became: Live, Love, Laugh, Make Memories. On May 5, 2010, Ricky entered the hospital for the last time. He came home on May 17. On May 23, 2010, at 11:07pm, he woke up, removed his oxygen, and said, “I love you Mommy.” Surrounded by his family, he earned his wings—eight days before his 5th birthday. Ricky changed me. I became less of a workaholic, more present, and found my voice as an advocate. I speak at Children’s Miracle Network events and coordinate campaigns for Rally. Sharing his story gives him life beyond my heart. But behind the façade, I’m broken. I miss everything—his hugs, laughter, “Rickyisms.” On June 1 this year, we celebrated what would’ve been his 20th birthday, his 15th in heaven. His dad and I still bring him teddy bears. It’s not weird—it’s wrong. Childhood cancer stole my son, his future, and ours. He is not in a better place. No justification will ever make this okay. It was his lifetime. It just wasn’t enough for me.

By buying a shirt, you are directly supporting childhood cancer research through the Rally Foundation. Every day, 47 children are diagnosed with cancer—a heartbreaking statistic that drives our mission forward. Your purchase will contribute to the ongoing efforts to develop better treatments with fewer long-term side effects, and ultimately, find a cure. Stand with us in this critical cause and help bring hope to children and families battling cancer—so that one day, no child has to face this fight.