She Was About to Lose Her Babies—But God Sent Help in the Quietest Way
She was about to lose all three of her babies. No ring. No family. No one standing beside her. But sometimes, God sends help when we least expect it—in the quietest, most unassuming ways.

“I don’t want them to take my babies.”
Jasmine Reed walked into the clinic alone. Her mother had passed away, and her boyfriend, Tyler, left after learning she was pregnant—not once, but three times. She didn’t have anyone waiting for her in the world.
I’m Maria Collins, the nurse who checked her in that night. I’m thirty-seven, with no family and no children of my own. My fiancé left when we found out I couldn’t have kids, and since then, the hospital has been my whole life.
From the moment Jasmine arrived, I made sure she wasn’t alone. I helped her fill out forms, brought her meals, and ensured she had a safe place to rest. I started checking on her even after my shifts ended, quietly supporting her through the long, lonely hours.
Then, she went into labor—early. I was there, holding her hand, offering comfort and encouragement. Three tiny newborns entered the world that night: two girls and a boy. Jasmine stayed awake beside them all night, learning every beep, every bottle, every tiny detail of newborn life.
Two days later, the social worker came with news that made Jasmine tremble: the babies would be moved to separate care homes. She gripped my hand and whispered, “I don’t want them to take my babies.”
I couldn’t let that happen. The next morning, I told the caseworker, “Put my name down. They’ll stay with me.”
Sometimes, God sends help in the quietest ways. Sometimes, He uses ordinary people with ordinary hearts to do extraordinary things. That night, love and courage became the family these babies needed.
Today, Jasmine’s babies are safe, loved, and together, and I am forever grateful to have been a small part of their story. Life doesn’t always give us a perfect path—but it has a way of placing the right people at the right time, reminding us that no one is ever truly alone.