They Stole My Daughter's Heart , So I Destroyed Them All

The day after my daughter died on the operating table, I went home to pack up her things. Without warning, a wave of nausea surged through me.

I stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test, and the tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.

I had just lost one child. Was this heaven's way of giving me another? Grief and disbelief crashed into each other inside my chest.

Her toys were still scattered around the house, as if they still held the warmth of her little fingers. I wanted to gather them all and bring them to my room, to keep something of her close.