When my world cracked open, it didn’t happen quietly. It shattered in a single terrible moment — the day my wife died giving birth to our son. The joy we had been waiting for, the baby we whispered prayers over for months, arrived too early and too small, fighting for every breath while my wife slipped away before I could even tell her he looked just like her. I remember stumbling down the hospital corridor, unable to think, unable to breathe, drowning in a grief so heavy it bent my spine. I pressed my hands to my face and felt everything inside me break. That was when an older nurse stopped beside me, placed her arms around my shoulders, and whispered, “Don’t give up. ….CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
Pages: 1 2
