medicaid
Parents and family members of children with complex medical needs from across the country have sent us their stories. Stories of faith and hope, anger and tragedy. Stories that are written by parents in between daytime therapies and appointments, and those magic quiet hours between midnight tube feeds and 2am
spread-the-word-to-end-the-word
The first time a doctor suggested that my son was mentally retarded was a shock. Simon was five, and though he’d consistently missed milestones, his doctors and teachers said it was just “developmental delay” and recommended more therapy to help him catch up. Since he’d started life with
pro-life
I chose life. I chose life when my husband and I planned to have a baby. I chose life when we celebrated the two little lines on the pregnancy test. I chose life when I started to eat healthier, took my prenatal vitamins every day, and eagerly attended every appointment
aca
I keep thinking about anonymity. That’s what President Obama gave us. For 6 years, since my son’s birth in 2010, I was able to post pictures of my children to just my friends; to celebrate, to enjoy, and to brag about how wonderful they are, just like a