In June 1970, my life was working as I’d hoped. At twenty-six, when my son Jim was born with a severe cleft lip and palate, my world turned upside down. Doctors took charge of my son’s medical needs. I felt side-lined, pressured to cope silently and without support. I recoiled when I saw my ten-day-old infant’s battered face after the first surgery. Feedings were traumatic, and I feared Jim would fail to thrive. Emotions I’d never felt before – disappointment, guilt, helplessness, self-loathing, resentment -- overwhelmed me. I shrank from the inevitable stares and insensitive comments. I worried that I had caused Jim’s cleft. My husband was consumed by medical training, so I was on my own for Jim’s medical appointments and hospitalizations. A surgeon dismissed my concerns and efforts. I yearned to be the mother my son needed but could not imagine ever being a positive force in his life....