I read the blog of a friend today. She too made the decision to keep going with her pregnancy after receiving a terminal diagnosis. When her son was born, they, just like us, just basked in the glow of this very special very loved child. The months of anticipation and anxiety over. Now it's just this amazing life you hold in your hands. Even more than your healthy children you praise God for bringing this little one into the world. You know that it was a struggle to get to this point and now the hope you had is tangible. It breathes; it's warmth; it's joy beyond joy. Then that moment...the one that lives in your soul forever...the one where you must decide to go forward with medical intervention or stop and let God take over. So much of you wants to hold on to that life and just give it a chance. As I read, I relived that moment, the most devastating in my life, surrounded by half a dozen strangers all with input as to how severe my child's condition was watching me shatter in a million pieces. Vu just silently rubbing my shoulders in some measure of comfort, but it's all on me. This is my decision alone. I made the decision to continue the pregnancy, I carried him, I cried over him so many times, I dealt with the doctors, I loved him and now must make this decision not for myself but for him. How does one go in an instant from having the most joyous experience to the most crushing?