Hello, my name is Stacy, and I am Noah’s mom.

Seventeen years ago, Noah was deprived of oxygen at birth. That single moment caused permanent global brain damage. He lives with hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy and spastic quadriplegia cerebral palsy with athetoid movements. From his first breath, his life has depended on constant, skilled care and relentless advocacy.

What people often imagine is a diagnosis-what they don’t see is the lifetime that follows.

Noah requires 24/7 hands-on care. Not supervision. Not help. Care. Because of the complexity and risk involved, both of his parents must remain home. This is not a choice — it is what keeping him safe requires.

For 17 years, we have lived inside systems that were never built for children like Noah. Every service must be justified. Every hour of care must be defended. Supports come with expiration dates, and families are expected to quietly absorb whatever disappears next.

Now Noah is approaching adulthood and this is not a milestone for families like ours.

It is a cliff.

As pediatric protections vanish, waitlists stretch for years, and eligibility rules change overnight, the stability of Noah’s care is suddenly at risk not because his needs have changed but because the calendar has. His body does not get easier to care for at 18. His medical fragility does not lessen. But the safety nets do.

This moment will determine whether Noah’s care continues safely or fractures in ways that cannot be undone.

This fundraiser is not about extras.
It is about preventing a fall.

Funds raised will help cover:

* Legal advocacy and attorney fees to fight for the care hours Noah medically requires

* Medical and mobility equipment not fully covered by insurance

* Home modifications necessary for safety as his body grows and changes

* Specialized therapies and caregiving coverage

* The countless uncovered costs required simply to keep him safe and supported

Noah is not a diagnosis.
He is a person.

He experiences joy and fear. He knows comfort and connection. He communicates in his own way. He is deeply loved. His life has value — even when protecting that life is expensive and exhausting.

I have carried this fight quietly for nearly two decades. Asking for help does not come easily. But we are standing at the edge of a system that was never designed to catch him.

If you are able to give, share, or simply see him, please know it matters more than you can imagine.

Noah’s Miracle is that he is here.


Our hope is that with your help, he does not fall.

Thank you for seeing my son.
— Stacy