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For weeks, my 15-year-old daughter Kayla suffered from constant nausea and stomach pain, hiding inside her oversized hoodie and flinching at every touch. I knew something was horribly wrong, but the doctors kept brushing it off as teenage stress. Then, while washing her laundry, I found a hidden pocket inside her jacket , my blood boiling, and that night, I walked into the faculty dinner holding a baseball bat…

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clean kitchen floors after soccer practice; her bedroom was a sanctuary of late-night laughter and the frantic clicking of her laptop keyboard as she edited photographs. Our house used to vibrate with her life.

But recently, that brilliant spark had been extinguished. It made my throat constrict with unshed tears every time I glanced in her direction.continue reading …

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