Logan Pacl stands out among teenagers. At 17, he faces a rare illness known as Sanfilippo syndrome. Often called “childhood Alzheimer’s,” this cruel disorder gradually takes away a child’s cognitive skills, mirroring the effects of Alzheimer’s in older people. But he keeps fighting and uses social media to spread awareness about his condition.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Logan Pacl’s life is a battle against time. Diagnosed with Sanfilippo syndrome, often known as “childhood Alzheimer’s,” the 17-year-old from Silverdale faces a relentless genetic disorder that viciously strips away the very essence of childhood. Caused by a single defective gene, this neurodegenerative disease attacks the brain and spinal cord, leaving behind a cruel wake of lost abilities, seizures, and constant pain. It’s a ticking time bomb, as most children with this terminal illness don’t survive beyond their mid-teens.
For Logan’s family, the heartbreak began early. Born in 2007 with his twin brother Austin, Logan seemed like any other healthy baby. Both boys hit their developmental milestones—until Logan began to fall behind. A year in, the red flags emerged: while Austin was speaking, Logan remained silent. The difference between the brothers grew, signaling the start of a devastating journey.
Sanfilippo syndrome doesn’t just rob children of their future—it erases their past.
Then the news of the diagnosis hit the parents, something no one could have anticipated.
As Logan’s condition worsened, with chronic infections and a noticeably swollen belly, Noelle and William were left searching for answers. In January 2010, they learned that Logan had Sanfilippo syndrome, a terminal illness with no cure or treatment, and a life expectancy that typically extends only into the late teens. “I’ll never forget the day we got the phone call. The genetic counselor on the other end went on and on, and all I thought was, well get to the part on how we fix this. Then she said it, ’This disease is terminal, and there is no cure or treatment,’” his parents recall.
Noelle recalled her initial reaction, grappling with the news that the disease was terminal. The weight of the diagnosis was overwhelming, leaving her with a heart that felt as though it had dropped into her stomach. The severity of the situation rendered her unable to process much beyond the devastating reality.
Noelle described the experience of mourning not just the child she had but the life she had envisioned for him, a life that was abruptly stolen away. The medical advice they received was minimal and unhelpful, simply advising them to take Logan home and cherish their time with him. This lack of concrete guidance only deepened their sense of helplessness.
In their search for hope, Noelle and William discovered an experimental stem cell transplant through online research. Inspired by the success of another mother’s child, they decided to pursue the same treatment for Logan. So, Pacl went through a tough three-month treatment that was basically a bone marrow transplant. He had to endure chemotherapy to wipe out his immune system so it could accept the new stem cells. It was a risky procedure, but it seems to have helped with some of Logan’s physical symptoms.
His mother uses social media to spread awareness about his condition.
At 17, Logan’s life is very different from that of most teenagers. Losing his ability to speak at a young age was tough for him and his family, but over time, he’s become more easygoing. “Life with Logan is anything but typical. Each day is a battle to maintain the skills he still has,” his mother Noelle said.
Since 2020, Noelle has been a vocal advocate for Sanfilippo syndrome, using TikTok to share her family’s story. Her videos have reached a global audience, raising awareness about the disorder and encouraging other parents to seek early diagnosis for their children.
Although Logan’s future is uncertain, the Pacl family is committed to making the most of their time together. Noelle and William used to avoid thinking about what lies ahead, but now they focus on cherishing every moment with Logan and ensuring he enjoys his time to the fullest. Noelle notes that among Sanfilippo parents, there’s a bit of a joke that all their children seem like siblings, sharing similar features like bushy eyebrows, a low nasal bridge, and large, round stomachs.
Even with the demands of caring for Logan, Noelle keeps life as normal as possible for Logan’s siblings, Austin and Aidyn. She acknowledges that having a brother with special needs can bring its own set of benefits.
As for sharing Logan’s journey online, Noelle remains thoughtful about what she posts. While she plans to continue sharing, she’s careful to respect her family’s privacy. “We just live in the moment,” his mother said. “And if something comes up, and we’re like, we can make that, we’ll do it.”
People in comments react differently.
Mostly people express support and empathy.
- You take the most wonderful care of him. You are the greatest mom. © lauralang1108 / Instagram
But some show a bit of skepticism.
- Genuine question, what is your plan when you are gone? © devin_abq.505 / Instagram
- I just wanna know why it’s necessary. People have to publicize their children’s conditions. Why do people think that we all wanna know what’s wrong with your child? I feel sorry for the parents, but I don’t know why you want to put this all out there. I’m sure you have support group publicizing putting your child out there like this. © marlawomble / Instagram
Today, conversations about living with disabilities are becoming more open, especially on social media. Celebrities are sharing their experiences as parents of children with special needs, helping to normalize these discussions and inspire others. This shift fosters understanding and empathy, creating a more inclusive environment for everyone.
We Adopted a 3-Year-Old Boy – When My Husband Went to Bathe Him for the First Time, He Shouted, ‘We Must Return Him!’
After years of infertility, we adopted Sam, a sweet 3-year-old with ocean-blue eyes. But when my husband went to bathe Sam, he ran out, yelling, “We must return him!” His panic made no sense until I spotted the distinctive marking on Sam’s foot.
I never expected that bringing home our adopted son would unravel the fabric of my marriage. But looking back now, I realize that some gifts come wrapped in heartache, and sometimes the universe has a twisted sense of timing.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
“Are you nervous?” I asked Mark as we drove to the agency.
My hands fidgeted with the tiny blue sweater I’d bought for Sam, our soon-to-be son. The fabric was impossibly soft against my fingers, and I imagined his small shoulders filling it out.
“Me? Nah,” Mark replied, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. “Just ready to get this show on the road. Traffic’s making me antsy.”
A man driving a car | Source: Pexels
He drummed his fingers on the dash, a nervous tick I’d noticed more frequently lately.
“You’ve checked the car seat three times,” he added with a forced chuckle. “Pretty sure you’re the nervous one.”
“Of course I am!” I smoothed the sweater again. “We’ve waited so long for this.”
The adoption process had been grueling, mostly handled by me while Mark focused on his expanding business.
A woman staring thoughtfully out a car window | Source: Midjourney
The endless paperwork, home studies, and interviews had consumed my life for months as I searched agency lists for a child. We’d initially planned to adopt an infant, but the waiting lists stretched endlessly, so I started expanding our options.
That’s how I found Sam’s photo — a three-year-old boy with eyes like summer skies and a smile that could melt glaciers.
His mother had abandoned him, and something in those eyes spoke directly to my heart. Maybe it was the hint of sadness behind his smile, or perhaps it was fate.
A little boy with striking blue eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Look at this little guy,” I said to Mark one evening, showing him the photo on my tablet. The blue glow illuminated his face as he studied it.
He’d smiled so softly I knew he wanted this boy as much as I did. “He looks like a great kid. Those eyes are something else.”
“But could we handle a toddler?”
“Of course we can! No matter how old the kid is, I know you’ll be a great mom.” He squeezed my shoulder as I stared at the picture.
A woman staring at her tablet | Source: Midjourney
We completed the application process and, after what seemed like forever, we went to the agency to bring Sam home. The social worker, Ms. Chen, led us to a small playroom where Sam sat building a tower of blocks.
“Sam,” she said softly, “remember the nice couple we talked about? They’re here.”
I kneeled beside him, my heart thundering. “Hi, Sam. I love your tower. May I help?”
He studied me for a long moment, nodded, and handed me a red block. That simple gesture felt like the beginning of everything.
A child playing with toy blocks | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet. Sam clutched a stuffed elephant we’d brought him, occasionally making small trumpet sounds that made Mark chuckle. I kept glancing back at him in his car seat, hardly believing he was real.
At home, I started unpacking Sam’s few belongings. His small duffle seemed impossibly light for containing a child’s whole world.
“I can give him his bath,” Mark offered, from the door. “Give you a chance to set up his room exactly how you want it.”
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Great idea!” I beamed, thinking how wonderful it was that Mark wanted to bond right away. “Don’t forget the bath toys I picked up for him.”
They disappeared down the hall, and I hummed as I arranged Sam’s clothes in his new dresser. Each tiny sock and T-shirt made this feel more real. The peace lasted exactly forty-seven seconds.
“WE MUST RETURN HIM!”
Mark’s shout hit me like a physical blow.
A woman looking over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
He burst from the bathroom as I raced into the hall. Mark’s face was ghost-white.
“What do you mean, return him?” I struggled to keep my voice steady, gripping the doorframe. “We just adopted him! He’s not a sweater from Target!”
Mark paced the hallway, running his hands through his hair, his breathing ragged. “I just realized… I can’t do this. I can’t treat him like my own. This was a mistake.”
“Why would you say that?” My voice cracked like thin ice.
A confused woman | Source: Midjourney
“You were excited just hours ago! You were making elephant noises with him in the car!”
“I don’t know; it just hit me. I can’t bond with him.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, staring instead at a point somewhere over my shoulder. His hands trembled.
“You’re being heartless!” I snapped, pushing past him into the bathroom.
Sam sat in the tub looking small and confused, and still wearing everything but his socks and shoes. He held his elephant clutched tight against his chest.
A boy holding a stuffed elephant | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice while my world crumbled. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Would Mr. Elephant like a bath too?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s scared of water.”
“That’s okay. He can watch from here.” I set the toy safely on the counter. “Arms up!”
As I helped Sam undress, I noticed something that stopped my heart.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
Sam had a distinctive birthmark on his left foot. I’d seen that exact mark before, on Mark’s foot, during countless summer days by the pool. The same unique curve, the same placement.
My hands trembled as I bathed Sam, and my mind raced.
“You’ve got magic bubbles,” Sam said, poking at the foam I’d barely registered adding to the water.
“They’re extra special bubbles,” I muttered, watching him play. His smile, which had seemed so uniquely his own, now held echoes of my husband’s.
A bubble bath | Source: Pexels
That night, after tucking Sam into his new bed, I confronted Mark in our bedroom. The distance between us on the king-size mattress felt infinite.
“The birthmark on his foot is identical to yours.”
Mark froze in the act of removing his watch, then forced a laugh that sounded like breaking glass. “Pure coincidence. Lots of people have birthmarks.”
“I want you to take a DNA test.”
A woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, turning away. “You’re letting your imagination run wild. It’s been a stressful day.”
But his reaction told me everything. The next day, while Mark was at work, I took a few strands of hair from his brush and sent them for testing, along with a swab I took from Sam’s cheek during tooth-brushing time. I told him we were checking for cavities.
The wait was excruciating. Mark grew increasingly distant, spending more time at the office. Meanwhile, Sam and I grew closer.
A woman playing with a child | Source: Midjourney
He started calling me “Mama” within days, and each time he did, my heart swelled with love even as it ached with uncertainty.
We developed a routine of morning pancakes, bedtime stories, and afternoon walks to the park where he’d collect “treasure” (leaves and interesting rocks) for his windowsill.
When the results arrived two weeks later, they confirmed what I’d suspected. Mark was Sam’s biological father. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the paper until the words blurred, hearing Sam’s laughter float in from the backyard where he played with his new bubble wand.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“It was one night,” Mark finally confessed when I confronted him with the results. “I was drunk, at a conference. I never knew… I never thought…” He reached for me, his face crumpling. “Please, we can work this out. I’ll do better.”
I stepped back, my voice ice-cold. “You knew the moment you saw that birthmark. That’s why you panicked.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sinking into a kitchen chair. “When I saw him in the bath, it all came rushing back. That woman… I never got her name. I was ashamed, I tried to forget…”
An emotional man | Source: Midjourney
“An accident four years ago, while I was going through fertility treatments? Crying every month when they failed?” Each question felt like glass in my throat.
The next morning, I visited a lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman named Janet who listened without judgment. She confirmed what I hoped — being Sam’s legal adoptive mother gave me parental rights. Mark’s previously unknown paternity didn’t automatically grant him custody.
“I’m filing for divorce,” I told Mark that evening after Sam was asleep. “And I’m seeking full custody of Sam.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“Amanda, please—”
“His mother already abandoned him and you were ready to do the same,” I cut in. “I won’t let that happen.”
His face crumpled. “I love you.”
“Not enough to come clean. It seems to me that you loved yourself more.”
Mark didn’t fight it, so the divorce proceedings were quick. Sam adjusted better than I expected, though sometimes he asked why Daddy didn’t live with us anymore.
A boy in his bed | Source: Midjourney
“Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes,” I’d tell him, stroking his hair. “But it doesn’t mean they don’t love you.” It was the kindest truth I could offer.
Years have passed since then, and Sam’s grown into a remarkable young man. Mark sends birthday cards and occasional emails but keeps his distance — his choice, not mine.
People sometimes ask if I regret not walking away when I discovered the truth. I always shake my head.
A woman hugging her son | Source: Midjourney
Sam wasn’t just an adopted child anymore; he was my son, biology, and betrayal be damned. Love isn’t always simple, but it’s always a choice. I vowed never to give him up, except to his future fiancée, of course.
Here’s another story: Despite being a struggling single mom, I had to help the elderly woman I found out in the cold on Christmas Eve. I never imagined that my simple act of kindness would lead to a mysterious luxury SUV at my door — or heal my broken heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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