After a grueling labor I knew something was wrong. Anderson’s breathing was labored and too fast. He was rushed off to the NICU where he spent the next few days undiagnosed. One of his nurses knew there was something else going on besides inhaling mecconium. After an ultrasound of his brain, an MRI was done. The results showed pontocerebellar hypoplasia. Researching the internet led to flashes of brain scans and words like “terminal, short life expectancy, and death” in bold white letters every time I closed my eyes. I asked for things like a feeding tube so we could go home and start living our lives together. After just 37 days in the NICU we did just that. We went home. We started home care, physical therapy, occupational therapy and speech. Before we knew it he was 1 and we were in outpatient therapy because he was healthy enough to leave the house. I don’t know what the future holds and I do my best not to think about it. I watch this determined little boy every day do more than I ever thought was possible. We don’t know what the future holds but we live knowing every day is a gift, and every day we love and live. Anderson will be 2 in June and his fight inspires everyone he meets. Especially us.