More tears

I fix my eyes on the neurologist and try to focus on what she is saying.

"His brain is significantly underdeveloped. I don't suspect he'll ever be able to walk, eat, or communicate like you or I," she says. "He'll be severely disabled."

My heart drops. I want to be anywhere but here in this moment. I grip Tyler's hand and hold onto it like a life line. This can't be happening. What about all the prayers being said for Will? What about all the faith? Isn't it enough?

She leaves the room and Tyler and I sit alone holding our precious bundle. He opens his eyes and looks at us as if to say, "I'm here! I'm OK!"

I don't know what to believe. I've always felt he's going to be OK. But I guess "OK" sometimes isn't what we think.

The tears don't stop. I go from feeling despair to feeling peace and then back again. It's a roller coaster I've never experienced.

The only thing to do now is continue on. It is so hard, but we have to do it. I once told Tyler that through our trials, we can either be happy and look for the good, or we can be bitter and let the negative consume us. Either way, it's in the Lord's hands.

I do know one thing. No matter what happens, this angel is mine forever.

And we will give him the best life possible.