That season of my life remains
etched in my soul—the time when my six-month-old daughter, Wendy, left this
world.
I was only 19, a young mother with a two-year-old son, trying to
navigate the weight of loss while still needing to be strong for him.
God had prepared me in ways I
didn’t recognize at the time. Three times, He whispered, “Remember this
moment.” First, two months before she passed. Then, the night before, as I
prayed with my hand resting gently on her back. And finally, the morning she
died, as she lay in our bed while I got ready to take her to the hospital.