My Daughter Cut Ties with Me After She Married a Rich Man – a Year Later, She Came Back Crying with a Baby

Three miscarriages. Three times taking down nursery decorations and packing tiny clothes into boxes we couldn’t bear to look at.

When social services called and said, “There’s a baby girl here.

Would you consider adopting?” my wife said yes before the woman even finished the sentence.

We brought Gillian home at six weeks old.

She cried all night for what felt like forever. We took turns walking the floor. We sang off-key lullabies.

We were tired, broke, and so, so happy.

My wife was a natural.

She knew how to swaddle, how to calm, how to make Gillian laugh.

Then she got sick.

Cancer didn’t care that our daughter was eight.

Didn’t care that my wife was kind. Didn’t care that we’d already lost so much.

We fought. Chemo.

Hospital stays. Sleepless nights.

And then one day the doctor called us into a small room and spoke softly. And there was nothing left to fight.

After my wife died, everything went quiet.

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