The Heart She Gave

Summary

Three days after I gave birth to our daughter, my husband, Grant Miller, sat by my hospital bed with a face carved from marble. He told me he'd been diagnosed with a terminal cardiac deformity. He had less than a month to live.

As the supposed deadline neared, a doctor—one of the specialists Grant had "vetted"—approached me in a sterile corridor. He told me I was a perfect match. He asked if I was willing to donate my heart to save my husband.

I looked at the sleeping infant in the bassinet, her tiny fingers curled like flower petals, and I didn't even blink. I said yes.