First of His Kind With no documented family history, my husband and I first learned about hemophilia when our son, Carson, was diagnosed at 11 months old. Around nine months, we noticed he was bruising easily—bruises that often had strange bumps in the middle. At his well-child checkup, we asked his doctor about it, but he was stumped. Blood tests were ordered to check for cancer, but everything came back negative. Over the next several months, we did test after test, even an X-ray, yet no answers came. Frustration grew, and finally, the doctor suggested one last blood test. That Friday, Carson cut his knee while crawling, and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. After an hour of applying solid pressure, I finally got it under control. But the next morning, when I removed the bandage, the wound reopened and started bleeding again. Since it was a Saturday, I opted for urgent care instead of the ER. The doctor listened to what had happened and immediately asked, “Does Carson have hemophilia?” I had never heard of it, so I said no—but the question planted a seed in my mind. On Monday, we got a call from our doctor saying the latest test was inconclusive and that we’d need to wait two more weeks before testing again. Unwilling to wait, we sought out another doctor we had heard great things about. We told her about our experience at urgent care and asked to test for hemophilia. As she reviewed Carson’s chart, she gave us shocking news—our previous doctor had been close to reporting us to Child Protective Services. She warned us that if the hemophilia test came back negative, she would be required to do the same. Thankfully, it never came to that. On November 19, 2012, Carson was diagnosed with severe hemophilia A. We were referred to MISTI Peds in Boise, Idaho—about 45 minutes from where we lived at the time. The day of our first appointment, we were overwhelmed with questions but didn’t even know where to begin. The first thing Dr. Meeker told us stuck with me: “This isn’t a death sentence like it was years ago. Your son can live a normal, happy life with the new medicines available.” Since Carson needed treatment three times a week, we decided to have a port placed to preserve his veins for the future. While waiting for the surgery, I had my own blood drawn to determine if his hemophilia was due to a genetic mutation or hidden family history. The results confirmed it was a mutation—one passed down from me. The guilt hit me hard. I had unknowingly carried this gene my whole life and had no idea. When surgery day arrived, I was incredibly nervous. My baby, not even a year old, was undergoing major surgery. But he did so well. During his recovery, the HTC nurse taught us how to access his port. It was overwhelming. I was terrified of doing it wrong and hurting him. It took a few tries, but I finally got the hang of it. Early on, we knew there was a local hemophilia chapter for support and education, but at first, it felt like too much. Everything was so new, confusing, and overwhelming. It wasn’t until months after Carson’s surgery that we attended our first educational dinner. That night changed everything. Since then, we’ve met so many incredible people who truly understand what life with hemophilia is like. Over the years, we’ve attended fundraising events, walks, and family summer camps together. We’ve bonded over shared struggles—caregiver burnout, school challenges, insurance battles, and the heartache of watching our kids just wanting to fit in. Through it all, we’ve found a small but strong support system—our hemophilia family.