5 days old: The story continues.

He was just 5 short days old when we received news that would change our lives in a way we never could have imagined. A tiny little boy, so loved and wanted, and yet not able to stay with us like we had planned.

We would agonize that afternoon over needing to break the news to Johnny's brother and sisters. How do you tell your children that their little brother won't be coming home for us to watch grow, and laugh with like we all had dreamed of. It wasn't easy. As I sat holding my son that evening, my wonderful husband sat with the kids and explained how Johnny would not be getting better, that they needed to say goodbye to him.

We tried to make Johnny look as peaceful as we could and covered up the majority of the wires and tubes with blankets as I held him in my arms. The ventilator tubing was still visible. He sounded as though he was sighing as the ventilator breathed in and out for him, the sound was comforting to me. As Jake brought the kids back to the room to see their brother, the look in their eyes was more than I could bear. With tears streaming down all our faces our family was all together once again, loving on our precious baby boy.

I could have sat there holding him forever, I didn't want to put him back in that lonely little bed. Our hours with him were limited, if I hadn't had that time, I would have felt so lost. It gave us the time we needed to cope with what was happening, time to say goodbye.

We still had hope that he would be okay, that maybe the doctors could be wrong. We also though had prayed that if he wasn't to be healed that God would show us clear signs that we needed to make some tough decisions. The next morning, when we arrived to see him it was his Daddy's turn to hold him. There was a certain comfort and healing in holding our son, allowing us to grieve while he was still with us. More singing, talking, praying, kissing and hugging, as if we were trying to get as much love on him as we possibly could. It was impossible to get it all out, there was still so much more we wanted to give.

We were still hoping for Jake's family to make it in from over seas, the volcano ash seemed as if it were purposely keeping our family apart during a time that we all needed to be together. It was terribly frustrating.

Monday morning was rough. We knew this was the day that a decision needed to be made. Once more we pleaded with God to make clear what we needed to do. Walking in his room that morning would instantly give us the answer.

The night before there was a new nurse working with Johnny. One that hadn't been with us through this ordeal like the other nurses had. We were blessed with some wonderful nurses that were there day after day. This night though, we would feel uncomfortable and didn't want another night of the same. The nurse that morning would be the one we needed that day. He was supposed to be working in the nursery over at maternity on his shift, but requested to keep working with Johnny as long as he was still in the NICU. We were so thankful he was there.

As I looked into his little bed I knew we had an answer. His body was beginning to shut down, he was tired. His muscle tone was gone, he could no longer keep his eyes closed, he needed more platelets and another transfusion. It was time to let him go.

Ironically his white blood cell count was showing tremendous improvement. The infection was going away. It was working, just not before it would attack his fragile brain. We would also learn that the placenta and umbilical cord were free of infection. There was not a trace of E-Coli in either. All these reports would come in on his final day with us.

Jake and I both sat at the end of Johnny's bed and waited while the nurse unhooked a few of the tubes and stopped the meds and IV fluids. Finally the last tube to be removed was the ventilator. It had done all the breathing for him over the course of his days in the NICU, and now it was up to him to breathe if he could. I was scared to watch it be turned off, but knew it was the right thing to do. I held out my arms as they lifted him to me, and Johnny sighed a deep sigh of relief. As we both sat cradling him close to us he did not take a single breath, but his heart continued to pump gently and slowly growing weaker. We held him as close as we could, each of us with our hands on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart for an hour before it finally slowed to a stop. He was at peace, no longer in pain. He was home with Jesus.

Our little Johnny Carter was just 8 short days old. His time on this earth would touch many lives and I pray it will continue to do so through our family. His life on earth may be done, but, he is the lucky one, truly living where there is no pain and suffering.

We are learning as we go, this process of grief, and it's hard to explain but there is peace. We find joy in the memory of him, and hope for a happy tomorrow, love that continues through even the hardest times. These are things we choose for our family, and I know my little boy wouldn't want it any other way.

He is, and always will remain right here in our hearts. I am so thankful for his precious little life.