Today is Infant Loss and Awareness Day - and the 15th one I've observed as a mother who lost her child. The little boy at the top of this screen is my son. He was born the day before my 23rd birthday - the second of my three children - fifteen years ago this past August. He was beautiful and a fighter and had these intense 'old eyes' that felt like they could see into the depths of your soul. But he also had Trisomy 18 - a chromosomal abnormality similar to Down's Syndrome that causes each and every cell to end up with too much genetic information. In Jeremiah's case - and in the case of the 1:3000 live births with Trisomy 18 - this meant that Jeremiah's chances of reaching his first birthday alive were less than 10%. So I slurped up every ounce of my baby, knowing that his time was limited, but with no knowledge of exactly how long we had. Until one day I knew.