One week.

It's my first day at home alone. 

I'm thankful for this. It's a week since we met Henry, and a week since we've said goodbye. I'm glad that I'm alone today. I need to grieve without judgement. 

I'm trying so hard not to harbor hate and anger in my heart. We were so blessed with our fourteen hours. 

But it's not what I wanted for my boy. I wanted him to live, to grow up, to learn and discover. I wanted him to get kisses from mommy and daddy every morning and every night. 

His life has meaning - he's saving other people. As noble as that is, it's not what I wanted. 

I wish I could go back one week and relive every moment with him. I wouldn't share any of my time with him. He would never leave my arms. 

I'm trying to be thankful for what we did have. I'm trying not to be angry that he's gone. I just miss my boy with my entire heart. I ache. I don't want to lose the memory of his breath, his little noises, his warmth in my arms. I don't ever want to forget his soft wavy blonde hair. I want to remember the way his skin felt so soft to my fingers and lips. 

In a perfect world.. I would have a happy, healthy little boy in my arms right now. I'd be posting pictures of us to Facebook. I'd be dancing around the living room with him. I'd be laughing at my stained shirts after feeding him, not ashamed and hollow when my breasts leak unwanted milk. 

I'm so torn between wanting to try again, and being absolutely terrified of trying again. No child can replace my baby. Nothing and no one can replace my Henry. Amelia is such an amazing big sister. She has so much love, and in time, I want her to have another sibling. 

But can I handle that? Can I handle twenty weeks of terror as we wait to see if the holoprosencephaly will appear again? The prenatal tests came back negative -- but we're not sure if we got the sample for the full genetics work up. If we didn't.. Can I take that gamble? 

I don't think I could ever survive this again. It's just too much. No one should ever have to go through this in their life. 

I don't care if my son ends up being the savior of the human race. He is my son - he deserves a life with us. He deserves kisses and time outs and chances to learn about life. 

His life was beautiful. It has purpose. I'm holding on to that, but it doesn't come close to what he deserved. 

He deserved the world.