I found him on a Tuesday night in the hallway of my apartment building in Pittsburgh.
Wrapped in a thin gray blanket.
Crying softly like he was trying not to take up too much space.
I was 34, newly divorced, working double shifts as a nurse, and too exhausted to be shocked by much anymore.
But that sound stopped me cold.
No note.
No diaper bag.
No explanation.
Just a baby left there like the building itself would decide his future.
I called the police.
Child Protective Services came.
Paperwork happened.
And somehow… that baby ended up in my care.
I named him Noah.
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