Join Brynlee’s Battle

06/20/2026

ARE YOU GUYS READY FOR THIS ONE👀

CRUISIN’ FOR A CAUSE 🏁💗

Join us on Saturday, July 11, 2026, for a day of riding, friendship, and support as we come together for Brynlee and her battle.

All Buggies & Jeeps Welcome
📍 Start & End: 1790 County Road 128, Junction City, Ohio
📝 Sign-Up Begins: 10:00 AM
🏁 Ride Starts: 12:00 PM
💲 Entry Fee: $20

🎟 50/50 Drawing
🔫 Gun Raffle
🍔 Food & Friends

Let’s fill the roads with buggies, Jeeps and love for our girl 🫶

06/15/2026

cancer or not, always my bubbly girl 🩷

06/15/2026

a story we know all to well.

06/13/2026

🥺🥺

Nearly a year ago, ABC 6 introduced viewers to Brynlee McClelland, a little girl facing a battle no toddler should ever have to fight. https://abc6onyourside.co

06/11/2026

After Brynlee’s cancer treatments, people expected everything to feel lighter.

They thought the hardest part was over. The treatments ended. The hospital bags were unpacked. Life was supposed to return to normal like cancer was something we could leave behind.

But cancer doesn’t leave that easily.

What stays is a fear that never fully disappears. It just changes shape.

Even on the most ordinary days, there’s a quiet tension that follows us. A cough isn’t just a cough. A bruise isn’t just a bruise. A headache can instantly turn the world upside down while we wait for reassurance. Every small change feels louder when you’ve already watched your child fight something so big. Cancer teaches you to pay attention in ways you never wanted to learn.

Brynlee walks through life now doing the things toddlers are supposed to do — playing, laughing, growing and yet there’s a history written into her body that no one can see. She has already faced hospitals, scans, needles, and fear before most kids even understand what those words mean.

And even when treatment ends, the waiting doesn’t.

Scan days still steal the air from the room. That sick feeling in your stomach doesn’t go away until the results come back. Time stretches. Hope and fear sit side by side. You smile for her, stay calm for her, while silently praying that her body keeps choosing healing.

There is so much gratitude, overwhelming gratitude that Brynlee is here. That she wakes up. That she laughs. That she keeps moving forward. But there’s also a quiet grief for everything she had to endure so young. For the innocence interrupted. For the battles she never should have had to fight.

Some nights, even now, I still check on her while she sleeps. I watch her chest rise and fall, just to remind myself that this moment is real. That she is safe. That she is here. My heart hasn’t completely learned how to relax yet it still remembers how quickly everything once changed.

This is the part of childhood cancer survivorship people don’t talk about.

Life continues, but it does so carefully. With deeper love. With sharper fear. With an awareness that every ordinary day is a gift. Brynlee isn’t just surviving anymore she’s living. And every step she takes forward feels like a miracle I will never stop honoring.

If you ever see me holding her a little longer, watching her a little closer, know that it’s not because I’m afraid to let go.

It’s because I know exactly how close we came to losing everything and how precious every second with her truly is. 🤍

06/05/2026

We’re done with radiation. 💛

I can’t believe we’re finally saying those words. Me and you, Bryn… we did it.
Every single early morning, every long drive, every appointment, every tear, every fear, every moment of exhaustion… we made it through together.

There were days I truly didn’t think I could keep going. Days I felt completely drained, scared, angry, and broken down by everything life kept throwing at us. But then I’d look at her.
And somehow, no matter how hard it was, she kept going.
So quitting was never an option for me.

Watching your child fight cancer changes you forever. It teaches you how strong love really is. It teaches you that even on the darkest days, you still get up and keep moving because your baby needs you to.

Cancer doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care who you are, how old you are, or what plans you had for your life. And the hardest part is… life doesn’t stop when your child has cancer. The world keeps spinning while yours feels like it’s falling apart.

The odds are never in her favor. The numbers, the statistics, the percentages they’ve followed us since the beginning. But I truly believe Brynlee is not defined by numbers or statistics. She is not a percentage on a paper or a diagnosis in a chart. She is so much bigger than that. She is strong, fearless, stubborn, beautiful, full of life, and fighting harder than most people ever will in their lifetime.

So when you think you’re having a hard day, just remember there are little warriors like Brynlee fighting battles most adults couldn’t even imagine. Needles, scans, medicine, radiation, sickness, fear and still somehow finding reasons to smile.

I will never understand how someone so little can be so unbelievably strong.
Brynlee, you are the bravest person I know. I am so proud of you. Your strength carried both of us through this.

Three words I prayed so hard to say:
WE ARE DONE. 🎗️💛

06/04/2026

As I lay here tonight with Brynlee laying beside me, making sure there are no cups left out, no snacks within reach, and double-checking everything one last time before another early morning, it’s hard to believe that tomorrow is finally our last radiation treatment.

For months, our lives have revolved around appointments, hospital visits, scans, procedures, sedation, medications, alarms, long drives, waiting rooms, and endless uncertainty. Every night before radiation meant cutting off food and drinks at a certain time so she could safely be sedated the next morning. Such a simple thing, but one of the hundreds of little reminders that cancer has been a part of our everyday life.

And now here we are.

One more day.

One more drive.
One more sedation.
One more radiation treatment.

We did it, Bryn.

There were days I didn’t know how we were going to keep going. Days when I was exhausted, overwhelmed, scared, angry, and completely heartbroken watching my little girl carry something so much bigger than she ever should have had to. There were setbacks, canceled appointments, machine breakdowns, delays, tears, and moments that felt impossible.

But somehow, every single time, you kept going.

You showed up.

You smiled when you didn’t have to.
You laughed when life wasn’t being fair.
You faced things that most adults would struggle to handle with a bravery that still leaves me speechless.

The statistics have never been in your favor. The numbers, percentages, and odds have never told the story I see every day. Because you are so much more than a statistic. You are more than a diagnosis. More than a treatment plan. More than what any chart or report could ever say.

You are Brynlee.

Strong.
Fierce.
Resilient.
Stubborn in all the best ways.
And the bravest little girl I’ve ever known.

Tomorrow we ring that bell.

Tomorrow we celebrate a chapter closing.

I know this journey isn’t completely over, and there will still be follow-up appointments, scans, and unknowns ahead. But tomorrow marks something huge. A milestone that at times felt so far away.

Tonight, I’m just soaking it in.

One last night of setting alarms.
One last night of no food or drinks after midnight.
One last night before we get to say those words we’ve waited so long to say:

We did it.

And Brynlee, no matter what comes next, I hope you always know how incredibly proud I am of you. Watching you fight has changed me forever.

One more day, baby girl. Just one more day. ❤️