After 2 years of IVF, Maxwell and Riley Freed were born on March 27, 2017 and made us the most happy people on the planet. In an instant, our lives were filled with purpose while we counted two sets of 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. We were ecstatic, content, and life was perfect.

At around 4 months, we noticed that Maxwell wasn’t progressing like Riley. Maxwell showed intent, but could not use his hands and could barely move. Well-meaning family and friends reassured us that everything was fine but mother’s intuition said differently.  

Riley’s milestones became bittersweet as it felt like Maxwell was slipping away in my arms. I was helpless. My fear turned to sheer panic as doctors desperately searched for answers along with us. 

In May, my husband and I were led to a cold, sterile diagnosis room at Children’s Hospital where doctors confirmed the unspeakable. Maxwell had a rare, sad, and completely unfair genetic disease that was essentially wreaking havoc on his neurological system. The disease is too rare for a formal name and is only known by the gene – SLC6A1. 

SLC6A1 causes developmental disabilities, a movement disorder and the onset of a debilitating form of epilepsy along with regression between 3 – 4 years. The solemn faced doctors said nothing could be done as they looked at us with sympathy. I saw my husband’s bottom lip start to quiver. The prognosis was bad.  

It was the darkest moment of my existence. It was sadness for which there are no words and a sadness I didn’t know existed. I was robbed of my perfect life, but mostly I mourned for the life I envisioned for Maxwell when I heard his first sweet cry in the delivery room.