I never imagined that stopping to help a crying baby on a freezing morning would lead me to the top floor of the building where I cleaned toilets for minimum wage. When I discovered whose child I had saved it belonged to, everything took an unexpected turn—and changed my destiny forever.
I never would have believed that my life could change like this.
It had been four months since I gave birth to my son. He bears his father’s name, a man who never had the chance to hold him. My husband died of cancer when I was five months pregnant. Becoming a father was his greatest dream.
When the doctor announced, « It’s a boy, » I burst into tears. I knew that this child represented everything my husband had hoped for. I so wished he could have been there to hold him.
Being a mother for the first time is already overwhelming. Being a mother for the first time without a husband, without financial security, while working to survive… it’s like climbing a cliff in the dark.
My life was now nothing more than a succession of midnight breastfeeding sessions, diaper changes, pumping, crying (his and mine) and nights shortened to three hours of sleep.
To keep my head above water, I worked part-time as a cleaner at a large financial company downtown. Four hours every morning, before anyone else arrived. It was exhausting—scrubbing floors, emptying trash cans, cleaning offices—but it was enough to pay the rent on a small apartment and for diapers. During those hours, my mother-in-law, Ruth, my late husband’s mother, looked after the baby. Without her, I would have sunk.
One morning, after my shift, I was walking home through that hazy mist that enveloped you after a fitful night’s sleep. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and the city was still asleep. I could think of only one thing: getting home to feed my son. My chest ached; I knew he would soon be hungry.
And then — a cry. Not a cat, not an animal. The cry of a baby.
At first, I ignored it. Since becoming a mother, I sometimes imagine cries that aren’t there. But that sound… it cuts through the distant noise of traffic. It was real.
I stopped, scanning the deserted street. The scream was repeated, louder, higher-pitched. My heart raced. I followed the sound to a nearby bus stop.
That’s where I saw him.
On the bench, I initially thought I saw a pile of clothes. But as I approached, the shape moved. A tiny fist emerged from the blanket.
He was no more than a few days old. His face was red with tears, his lips trembled in the cold. I looked around for a pram, a bag, someone—nothing. The surrounding buildings were asleep, their windows dark.
“Is anyone there?” I cried, my voice breaking. “Whose baby is this?”
Silence. Only the wind and its sobs, growing weaker and weaker.
I knelt down. My hands trembled as I lifted the blanket. His skin was icy cold, his cheeks mottled, his frail body trembling with chills. My heart sank. He needed warmth. Now.
Instinctively, I took him in my arms. So light… I held him close, trying to give him some warmth.
“You’re safe, little one,” I whispered. “I’m here, okay?”
I looked around one last time, hoping, praying that a mother would appear. No one.
Then I knew what I had to do.
I wrapped his head in my scarf and started running. My boots hit the frozen pavement as I held him tightly against me.
When I reached my building, I was frozen, but her scream had subsided. I hastily opened the door and rushed inside.
Ruth was in the kitchen.
« Miranda! » she exclaimed. « What…? »
« An abandoned baby, » I gasped. « On a bench. All alone. Frozen. I couldn’t— »
She paled, then reached out to stroke the baby’s cheek. Her features softened.
« Breastfeed him, » she said softly.
I was trembling with fatigue, but as I fed this stranger, something changed within me. His tiny hand gripped my t-shirt, his cries transformed into peaceful sucking. Tears blurred my vision.
« You’re safe now, » I whispered.
After breastfeeding, I wrapped him in one of my son’s blankets. He fell asleep peacefully, breathing in time with me.
Ruth sat down beside me.
« He’s magnificent, » she whispered. « But darling… we must call the authorities. »
My heart sank. I knew she was right, but the thought of letting him go broke me. In just one hour, a bond had already formed.
I dialed the emergency number with a trembling hand.
See more on the next page
Advertisement
