On a sunny October day in 1986, my sweet sister, Stacy was born. But unlike when I was born three years earlier, Stacy almost didn't make it. The doctors found a severe intestinal blockage and rushed her to the operating room. Stacy had half of her intestines removed when she was just one day old. 

A few weeks later, the doctors told my parents that Stacy had Cystic Fibrosis, a disease they had never heard of. My parents were told to take their sweet baby home, to love her, but not to expect her to live to adulthood. My parents could barely breathe - what were they supposed to do now? 

Instead of running away, my parents dug in. Joined the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Got to work. They took care of their baby girl and loved her. But, they refused to accept the doctors' prognosis, and they would not let Stacy's life be defined by cystic fibrosis.