My Sister Abandoned Her Baby With Me — Ten Years Later, My Parents Took Me to Court and Regretted It

I had just gotten home from a twelve-hour shift at Memorial Hospital, where I worked as a pediatric nurse. I’d kicked off my shoes, settled on the couch with takeout and wine, when the doorbell rang around nine-thirty. I almost ignored it, thinking it was probably a package delivery or someone at the wrong address.

When it rang again, more insistently, I reluctantly got up.

What I found changed my life forever.

A car seat sat on my welcome mat, covered with a thin blanket to shield from the rain. When I pulled back the blanket, I found a tiny baby girl—maybe three months old, with rosy cheeks and a wisp of dark hair just like my sister Amanda.

Tucked into the side of the car seat was a folded note in handwriting I immediately recognized.

Her name is Lily. I can’t do this. Take care of her. I’m sorry.

That was it. Seven words that shifted my entire existence.

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