After a difficult delivery, I was told my baby had been stillborn. Heartbroken and physically weak, I lay in the hospital grieving a son I never got to hold. To make matters worse, my husband never came to see me. Instead, he sent a cold text message saying, “It’s better this way,” because he had never wanted a child.
While I struggled through overwhelming grief, a nurse named Sandra quietly approached me and whispered, “Don’t believe them.” Late that night, she led me to the NICU, where I froze in shock. There, in a bassinet labeled with my son’s name, was a tiny baby breathing softly, his little fist resting against his chest. My son was alive.
