In one of my earliest memories of life as Jesse's mom, I am sitting alone in a tiny room at Sick Kid's Hospital in Toronto, a nervous new foster parent trying to process the unfathomable: that the tiny person I'd already come to think of as 'my' child would probably not survive his first year; that if he did survive he would never walk, never talk, never feed himself. Brutal predictions from a well-meaning doctor and a social worker determined to offer a way out. You do not have to do this....

Rebecca is sunshine and perseverance.   Born almost three weeks overdue to 26 hours of induced hard labour, I watched as she turned blue, and bluer, and darker still. Not breathing. No crying. Now purple. Still not breathing.  Doctor and nurse take her to a side table, their backs now to me and her Mom.  Can’t see her, can’t hear her. Still not breathing.  No crying.  Eternity. They rush Rebecca out of the room just as my wife asks me what’s wrong, where is she? Where’s our baby?  While...

Mom couldn’t say “no” when the social worker asked if she would go and visit a small institution in the city near the end of 1975.  This is where Mom met Mario and told the social worker that she was willing to have him become part of our family.  So, on February 1, 1976 Mario became the sixth foster child in seven years to join the Wustefeld family.  Born with Down Syndrome, Mario was left at the hospital as his biological parents felt that they could not take care of him.  He became a crown...