Hi, I’m Kayla Petersen — and this is our story.

When I was born with a cleft lip and palate in the early ’90s, I learned what resilience meant at a very young age. Surgery after surgery. Appointment after appointment. I grew up balancing the emotional weight of feeling different with the determination to live a full life. And eventually, I did. I “graduated” from my care team at 18 and began building a life beyond my diagnosis.Kayla as a baby, sitting next to a toy and looking at the camera.

I always knew there was a chance I could pass my cleft on, but with no family history and a low statistical risk, I held onto hope. I took all the right steps — prenatal vitamins, folate, regular visits to my OB-GYN. My first son was born without a cleft, and I felt reassured.

But during a routine ultrasound with my second pregnancy, our world shifted.

We learned our son, Levi, would be born with a bilateral cleft lip and palate. In that moment, I wasn’t just an expectant mom — I was that little girl again, facing all the pain and fear I had worked so hard to overcome. I knew what was ahead: the surgeries, the questions, the scars — both visible and invisible.

And yet, we took it one day at a time.

When Levi was born, he was perfect. I’ll never forget the moment the nurse told us he had an incomplete bilateral cleft with no palate involvement. I was so relieved my child wouldn’t have to go through everything I did. His smile lit up every room, and his spirit was pure joy. At just 4 months old, he had his first surgery with the ACPA Approved University of Iowa Cleft Palate-Craniofacial Team — the same team who had cared for me as a child. That moment was full circle, and I felt immense trust knowing he was in the very best hands.Levi looking at the camera wearing a shirt that says "I get my froever smile today! 02-06-24 #cleftstrong"

The waiting was gut-wrenching. The recovery, hard. But when I saw his post-surgery smile — his forever smile — I cried with both love and grief. He was so handsome. And yet, part of me missed the smile he was born with.

But our journey didn’t stop there. Levi developed painful keloid scars. We tried injections — again and again — holding him as he screamed, both of us breaking a little more each time. Eventually, we had to stop. Now, we’re preparing for a possible revision surgery, knowing keloids might return. That’s the reality so many families like ours face — the uncertainty, the long road, the deep need for support.

Through it all, we’ve leaned on our community — and the power of shared understanding.

Organizations like the ACPA play a crucial role in that. ACPA is leading the way in advancing research, supporting families, and ensuring teams like ours meet the highest standards of care. Their resources helped me feel informed, empowered, and equipped to advocate for Levi — and myself.

Kayla and Levi with the rest of their family in front a door.I’m proud of the woman I’ve become. Roller derby gave me confidence. Therapy gave me tools. Motherhood gave me purpose. And this journey — the one I once feared — gave me strength I never knew I had.

Levi is growing into a wild, fearless little boy, full of life and love. And I’m here, every step of the way, helping him discover who he is — scars, strength, and all.

Your gift today helps ACPA continue this vital work — advancing care, connecting families, and changing lives.

Because behind every cleft is a child like Levi. A parent like me. And a future shaped by hope, healing, and heart.