Dear Friends,
Many years ago, as a young nurse working in Labor and Delivery, I experienced something that has remained with me throughout my life.
One evening, I was called to our hospital Emergency Department.
When I arrived, I found a black duffel bag sitting on a stretcher in the center of the room. Around it stood hospital staff and two police officers. No one spoke. It seemed as though time itself had stopped.
I knew why they had called me. Everyone expected me to open the bag.
As I gently placed my hands upon the duffel bag, I felt the tiny form inside.
My heart already knew what everyone feared.
When I slowly opened the bag, I found a beautiful newborn baby girl.
She had been lovingly wrapped in a blanket. Resting upon her chest was a small stuffed bear with a tiny white ribbon around its neck.
She was still… She was cold… And my heart sank.
The room stood silent.
As I lifted her from the bag and laid her upon the white hospital sheets, I found myself calling her “Little Miss Molly.” “Let’s see here, Miss Molly…”
Soon everyone in Labor and Delivery, the Nursery, and the Emergency Department simply knew her as “Baby Molly.”
There was much we did not know.
Who was her mother? Why had she abandoned her child?
What circumstances had brought her to this heartbreaking moment?
But There Was One Thing We Did KNOW…
Baby Molly was loved.
The blanket.
The carefully wrapped and covered with tissues umbilical cord.
The tiny stuffed bear with a white ribbon bow.
All spoke of a mother’s love.
They way she was wrapped spoke of the hope, of a scared and very alone new mom.
We believed with all our hearts that her mother loved her little girl.
For reasons we may never know, she simply could not see another way.
Perhaps fear overwhelmed hope.
Perhaps she felt alone. Perhaps she believed she had nowhere to turn, and hope someone would find her tiny newborn daughter.
But the night was too long and too chilled…
The hospital staff wept… The Sisters and hospital staff arranged a beautiful funeral.
Baby Molly was laid to rest among the graves of the Holy Innocents, surrounded by the love and prayers of strangers – who’s hearts she touched.
And all these years later, I still think about Baby Molly and her mom. I prayed she would know, that we recognized how tenderly her daughter was cared for and how much her heart must have broken when she tried the best she knew to do at the time. | 
