The doctors explained what Treacher Collins was, to what degree they believed my son had it, and what it could possibly mean for delivery. I remember hearing cleft palate, small jaw, difficulty breathing, and tracheostomy. And I remember crying. That deep soul kind of crying where my very being wept with grief. I cried for myself. I cried for him. I cried for the dreams and hopes, plans, and desires I had unconsciously been holding onto so very tightly without even realizing it. And I cried because I was scared. Really scared.