Now I can look back. I look back and I see how my thought patterns were. I was solidly unaware that giving up was an option for most of it.
You can't see, as a young person, what you've never seen before.
And now I've seen it.
I've seen baby after baby die.
I've fallen in love and I've watched breath leave that person.
I've watched children and infants who seem to be experiencing great suffering, holding onto great hope.
I can't call it right or call it wrong, and then I barely considered not fighting.
Now, if it happened now. I would not.
I would hope, I would pray, but I would not put my son through all that for the one percent.
Because now, older, I know that the precious moments I would go through for even a few minutes of painfree love would have been worth it.
To watch him go as peacefully as possible.

There was a point where there were so many holes in my son I was horrified.
I felt like I had no choice but to continue and try and hope and pray that he would be whole and healed.
But you know, when God gives you a child with a sickness so deep, there is another option.

For me, I would not be able to put my son through so much again.
Even if it meant only a few minutes.
Or days.
Or a week.
Or a year.

And I know it would have been impossible.
So maybe, maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I would have done all the same things even if I were older and knew.
But honestly, who am I to know what I would do if I did it over.

Because all I knew to do was to have faith and to hope and to fight for my little boy.

And I did get some incredible grins that I will never forget.

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