Gripping the steering wheel, I navigated traffic on the busy freeway as my thoughts raced, fearing for my passenger.“How does he look?” Adjusting the rearview mirror, I strained to see the baby carrier strapped to the seat behind me. Only two tiny teddy-socked feet were visible. “He’s okay, Mom. It’s okay,” my nine-year-old said, trying to reassure me from the back seat. I sped toward the hospital. Pushing the worst-case scenario out of my head, I repeated under my breath, “Please, God, be with my baby, my blood spotted, polka-dotted, blue-bruised baby!” This was just the beginning of a journey filled with more questions than answers about my baby—my happy, healthy baby—who was transformed, day by day, by what would eventually be labeled Sensory Processing Disorder.God! I thought. Why didn’t anyone ever clue me in that vaccines were a factor in my child’s low platelet blood disorder? In his speech regression? In his extreme eating and digestion issues? In his difficulty to live normally on a daily basis? A fire in the pit of my gut began to kindle and grow from that day forward. Vaccine injury would not have the last word!I’ve been there. Right where you are now. I’ve lived that life of a desperate mother. But now I’m here to tell you, I’ve got good news: There is Hope for a Healed Child.