I spent weeks mourning the loss of the life we planned. A life where my child could run and hike and surf and grow to be anything he wanted. A life where I would bring my child home from the hospital. Where each minor cold would not cause panic and anxiety. I wondered in those weeks if my child would have the opportunity to feel my arms, to rest his broken heart against mine. I wondered if the only life he would ever know would be cold and painful and ruled by hospital policy. I wondered if choosing a course for him that would guarantee pain and complication was selfish. Was I choosing a life he would not have chosen for himself?