I was 24 years old when I had my son, Christian, in 1999. He was such a good baby. He started taking his first steps when he was just two months old. He had a lump on the side of his neck and I noticed he couldn’t turn his head.
While I write this story, I am looking at my son, Beau. He is happily sitting on the couch wearing shorts and a t-shirt, munching on pistachios, and grinning while watching Ghostbusters, a movie he specifically requested to watch. To most people, this would be a very ordinary scene.