Carol Hardaway woke in the morning and padded over to her 8-month-old son's crib. A towheaded blue-eyed boy peered up at her, smiling, enveloped in one of her old T-shirts. "Are you ready to get up?" she asked. She reached down into the crib and wrapped her hands around his torso to lift him and was surprised that she couldn't. Even as she saw her right hand make contact, she couldn't feel Chris' warmth or his softness. It was as though her fingers belonged to someone else. She picked him up with her left arm and went about the morning, readying herself for work tending bar at TGI Fridays. Hardaway had an unsettled feeling in her stomach. That day, January 17, 1986, is a date as easy for her to recall as... More >>>