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Waking up weak after an emergency C-section, I begged to see my newborn baby, only for the nurse to look away in tears. “Your husband gave explicit orders,” she whispered. “He said, ‘If the baby is a boy, save him. If it’s a girl, let her die on the table.'” My heart shattered into a million pieces-until the doctor walked in, looked right at my husband, and dropped a bombshell that turned his face completely pale…

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pressing my lips to the downy hair on her fragile head. She opened her eyes—a startling, stormy grey—and stared up at me with an intensity that defied her size.

I knew then what her name had to be.

I did not want a name synonymous with peace, or grace, or gentle things. Her entry into this world was a brutal, bloody conflict. She was a survivor of a continue reading …

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