Latest news with #MonicaKelsey
Yahoo
28-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
The Devastating History of Baby Relinquishment
At New York's Foundling Hospital a policewoman turns an abandoned child over to a staff member. Credit - Orlando—In 2016, Monica Kelsey, a Christian anti-abortion activist, debuted an invention allowing for completely anonymous infant surrender: the Safe Haven Baby Box. A relinquishing parent simply opens the door to the device—now at more than 150 hospitals, health care centers, and fire stations across the United States—and places their newborn in the climate-controlled bassinet. When the parent closes the door, the box locks and a silent alarm alerts responders. Supporters frame baby drop boxes as a beautiful solution for all parties involved—relinquishing parents, infants anonymously surrendered, and families who eventually adopt them. They argue that this innovation protects vulnerable babies from grievous harm, though there is no reliable data to support these assertions. The federal government does not track how frequently babies are surrendered directly to professionals under safe haven laws, which exist in all 50 states, let alone how many babies are left anonymously in drop boxes. Nevertheless, conservative religious groups position safe havens as an alternative to abortion. During arguments in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the Supreme Court case that overturned Roe v. Wade, Justice Amy Coney Barrett suggested that safe haven laws 'take care' of the 'problem' of 'the consequences of parenting and the obligations of motherhood that flow from pregnancy.' This framing ignores evidence that 91% of women who are denied abortion in the U.S. choose parenting over adoption or relinquishment. How Online Adoption Ads Prey on Pregnant People Positioning Safe Haven Baby Boxes as a solution to the problem of unwanted pregnancy also ignores important historical lessons about the harms caused by anonymous infant relinquishment. Charitable institutions in our country supported this practice on a much larger scale in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and the results were devastating. While the technology they rely on has been updated for the 21st century, Safe Haven Baby Boxes are a new spin on a very old idea, motivated by religious conservatism and societal policing of women's sexuality and reproduction. The earliest mechanisms for anonymous infant surrender debuted thousands of years ago in Europe. Among the first were so-called 'ruota,' or wheel, systems at Catholic-run hospitals for orphans and foundlings in medieval Italy, where turntables were built into outdoor niches. A parent could place a baby on the turntable outside and rotate it indoors without being identified. Institutions dedicated to the care of so-called "foundlings" and mechanisms like the ruota spread throughout Europe in the medieval and Renaissance periods—especially in Catholic countries that heavily stigmatized extramarital sex—in order to prevent infanticide and care for 'illegitimate' babies surrendered by poor single women seeking to hide the evidence of their supposed sins. Historians now estimate that by the 18th century, as many as one third of babies born in cities in France, Italy, and Spain were abandoned. The foundling trend didn't reach American shores until the mid-19th century, when industrialization and mass migration brought huge numbers of people into cities like New York and, in turn, created conditions under which infant abandonment flourished. If a poor single woman who came to New York to work in an unstable low-wage job became pregnant out of wedlock, shame, stigma, poverty, lack of childcare options, and the anonymity of city living might lead her to leave her infant on a stoop. In the 1860s, four different foundling asylums opened in New York City to care for abandoned children. Among them was the Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, founded by the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in 1869. That October, Sister Mary Irene Fitzgibbon, with two other nuns, placed a cradle on the stoop of their brownstone in Manhattan to secretly receive 'illegitimate' babies. That very first night, someone left a baby in the cradle on the stoop. By 1871, they had taken in 2,560 foundlings through the cradle, which was moved into the entryway but still hidden from sight to ensure anonymous surrender. The Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, often referred to as simply "the Foundling," was the only New York asylum that allowed for such secrecy. For decades, the organization received babies in a self-described effort to save their souls and launder the reputations of their poor 'fallen' mothers. In 1880, the charity opened St. Ann's Maternity Hospital, which served unmarried mothers 'seek[ing] shelter and seclusion with hope of preserving character and family reputation,' as the Foundling put it in a biennial report. The newborns would be cared for by the sisters, who baptized them into the Catholic faith. If they lived long enough to become 'run around[s],' the children might be chosen to ride 'baby trains' to go live with new Catholic families in far-flung towns all across the country, a practice that persisted through 1927. Some 30,000 children rode those baby trains. The Foundling came to participate in the orphan train movement because its Protestant counterpart and progenitor of the social engineering experiment, the New York Children's Aid Society (CAS), was seen by Catholic-run charities as 'an unqualified menace that had caused thousands of Catholic children to lose their religion and thus their only hope for eternal salvation.' By sending toddlers off on baby trains, the Foundling worked to preserve the minority Catholic faith against encroachment by Protestant charities like the CAS, ensuring that Catholic culture would be perpetuated and reproduced across the United States. Russia Is Trying to 'Erase' Ukrainian Identity in Captured Territories, European Officials Allege With a secretive system whereby women who 'sinned' by giving birth out of wedlock would be permanently severed from their children, who were then sent to live with new families, the Foundling may have propagated the Catholic faith. But it also harmed the very children it purported to save. The Foundling's own archives at the New York Historical hold evidence of how the organization's practices, which cut children off from basic forms of self-knowledge and from the possibility of ever reconnecting with their birth families, caused lifelong suffering for some baby train riders. Nestled into folders of correspondence to the Foundling from the 1980s and 1990s are requests from former riders, now elderly, seeking vital information about themselves and their families of origin. Some riders were hoping for details that would make sense of their medical histories. In 1994, a rider named Sylvia Wolk who was born in 1918, wrote asking for whatever information the charity had on her parents, an urgent request, as she and her brother, Joseph, were 'both in poor health, in their seventies, and under a doctor's care.' Sylvia wrote that she was 'desperately seeking truth before Joseph dies.' After a lifetime apart, Sylvia and her brother had reunited in 1989—and not through the Foundling. Instead, the siblings reconnected after Sylvia's search for her long-lost brother was featured on an episode of the television show Unsolved Mysteries. Joseph died in 1996, likely without ever learning the 'truth' about his ancestry from the Foundling. Other letters illustrate the frustration riders felt in the charity's withholding of basic details about their lives. Helen Macior, who was born in 1913 and rode a baby train to Illinois in 1915, wrote in a 1994 request form that she was seeking information 'to learn who I am.' The next year, she sent another letter: 'Seven months have elapsed, and nary a word. This in addition to the last five years of correspondence. . . . If there is one thing I strongly believe, every human being is entitled to know from whence they came, be it good or bad.' Yet the Foundling's system was entirely presaged on the idea that some people's origins need to be concealed. The tension between the Foundling's desire to keep unwed mothers' identities secret and the desire of former baby train riders to know about their origins foreshadows a central conundrum of modern adoption: the difficulty that adoptive children face in accessing information about their birth parents. The nationwide practice of sealing original birth certificates of adoptees and issuing revised documents that list the names of adoptive parents keeps secrecy alive. But that is changing—thanks to the efforts of adopted people and birth parents in recent years, adoptees in 15 states now have the right to access their original birth certificates. The conservative movement for anonymous infant relinquishment and supporters of Safe Haven Baby Boxes ignore this history and create a system that makes it difficult—if not impossible—for child and parent to ever learn the truth about one another. Babies surreptitiously left in such drop boxes will likely never have accurate birth certificates, and relinquishing parents swiftly lose their parental rights and any chance of legally reclaiming or reconnecting with their children. History has already taught us the harms of withholding self-knowledge and the possibility of reunification. It is past time we learn these lessons. Kristen Martin is the author of The Sun Won't Come Out Tomorrow: The Dark History of American Orphanhood. Made by History takes readers beyond the headlines with articles written and edited by professional historians. Learn more about Made by History at TIME here. Opinions expressed do not necessarily reflect the views of TIME editors. Write to Made by History at madebyhistory@
Time Magazine
28-05-2025
- Politics
- Time Magazine
The Devastating History of Baby Relinquishment
In 2016, Monica Kelsey, a Christian anti-abortion activist, debuted an invention allowing for completely anonymous infant surrender: the Safe Haven Baby Box. A relinquishing parent simply opens the door to the device—now at more than 150 hospitals, health care centers, and fire stations across the United States—and places their newborn in the climate-controlled bassinet. When the parent closes the door, the box locks and a silent alarm alerts responders. Supporters frame baby drop boxes as a beautiful solution for all parties involved—relinquishing parents, infants anonymously surrendered, and families who eventually adopt them. They argue that this innovation protects vulnerable babies from grievous harm, though there is no reliable data to support these assertions. The federal government does not track how frequently babies are surrendered directly to professionals under safe haven laws, which exist in all 50 states, let alone how many babies are left anonymously in drop boxes. Nevertheless, conservative religious groups position safe havens as an alternative to abortion. During arguments in Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the Supreme Court case that overturned Roe v. Wade, Justice Amy Coney Barrett suggested that safe haven laws 'take care' of the 'problem' of 'the consequences of parenting and the obligations of motherhood that flow from pregnancy.' This framing ignores evidence that 91% of women who are denied abortion in the U.S. choose parenting over adoption or relinquishment. Positioning Safe Haven Baby Boxes as a solution to the problem of unwanted pregnancy also ignores important historical lessons about the harms caused by anonymous infant relinquishment. Charitable institutions in our country supported this practice on a much larger scale in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and the results were devastating. While the technology they rely on has been updated for the 21st century, Safe Haven Baby Boxes are a new spin on a very old idea, motivated by religious conservatism and societal policing of women's sexuality and reproduction. The earliest mechanisms for anonymous infant surrender debuted thousands of years ago in Europe. Among the first were so-called 'ruota,' or wheel, systems at Catholic-run hospitals for orphans and foundlings in medieval Italy, where turntables were built into outdoor niches. A parent could place a baby on the turntable outside and rotate it indoors without being identified. Institutions dedicated to the care of so-called "foundlings" and mechanisms like the ruota spread throughout Europe in the medieval and Renaissance periods—especially in Catholic countries that heavily stigmatized extramarital sex—in order to prevent infanticide and care for 'illegitimate' babies surrendered by poor single women seeking to hide the evidence of their supposed sins. Historians now estimate that by the 18th century, as many as one third of babies born in cities in France, Italy, and Spain were abandoned. The foundling trend didn't reach American shores until the mid-19th century, when industrialization and mass migration brought huge numbers of people into cities like New York and, in turn, created conditions under which infant abandonment flourished. If a poor single woman who came to New York to work in an unstable low-wage job became pregnant out of wedlock, shame, stigma, poverty, lack of childcare options, and the anonymity of city living might lead her to leave her infant on a stoop. In the 1860s, four different foundling asylums opened in New York City to care for abandoned children. Among them was the Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, founded by the Sisters of Charity of St. Vincent de Paul in 1869. That October, Sister Mary Irene Fitzgibbon, with two other nuns, placed a cradle on the stoop of their brownstone in Manhattan to secretly receive 'illegitimate' babies. That very first night, someone left a baby in the cradle on the stoop. By 1871, they had taken in 2,560 foundlings through the cradle, which was moved into the entryway but still hidden from sight to ensure anonymous surrender. The Catholic New York Foundling Hospital, often referred to as simply "the Foundling," was the only New York asylum that allowed for such secrecy. For decades, the organization received babies in a self-described effort to save their souls and launder the reputations of their poor 'fallen' mothers. In 1880, the charity opened St. Ann's Maternity Hospital, which served unmarried mothers 'seek[ing] shelter and seclusion with hope of preserving character and family reputation,' as the Foundling put it in a biennial report. The newborns would be cared for by the sisters, who baptized them into the Catholic faith. If they lived long enough to become 'run around[s],' the children might be chosen to ride 'baby trains' to go live with new Catholic families in far-flung towns all across the country, a practice that persisted through 1927. Some 30,000 children rode those baby trains. The Foundling came to participate in the orphan train movement because its Protestant counterpart and progenitor of the social engineering experiment, the New York Children's Aid Society (CAS), was seen by Catholic-run charities as 'an unqualified menace that had caused thousands of Catholic children to lose their religion and thus their only hope for eternal salvation.' By sending toddlers off on baby trains, the Foundling worked to preserve the minority Catholic faith against encroachment by Protestant charities like the CAS, ensuring that Catholic culture would be perpetuated and reproduced across the United States. With a secretive system whereby women who 'sinned' by giving birth out of wedlock would be permanently severed from their children, who were then sent to live with new families, the Foundling may have propagated the Catholic faith. But it also harmed the very children it purported to save. The Foundling's own archives at the New York Historical hold evidence of how the organization's practices, which cut children off from basic forms of self-knowledge and from the possibility of ever reconnecting with their birth families, caused lifelong suffering for some baby train riders. Nestled into folders of correspondence to the Foundling from the 1980s and 1990s are requests from former riders, now elderly, seeking vital information about themselves and their families of origin. Some riders were hoping for details that would make sense of their medical histories. In 1994, a rider named Sylvia Wolk who was born in 1918, wrote asking for whatever information the charity had on her parents, an urgent request, as she and her brother, Joseph, were 'both in poor health, in their seventies, and under a doctor's care.' Sylvia wrote that she was 'desperately seeking truth before Joseph dies.' After a lifetime apart, Sylvia and her brother had reunited in 1989—and not through the Foundling. Instead, the siblings reconnected after Sylvia's search for her long-lost brother was featured on an episode of the television show Unsolved Mysteries. Joseph died in 1996, likely without ever learning the 'truth' about his ancestry from the Foundling. Other letters illustrate the frustration riders felt in the charity's withholding of basic details about their lives. Helen Macior, who was born in 1913 and rode a baby train to Illinois in 1915, wrote in a 1994 request form that she was seeking information 'to learn who I am.' The next year, she sent another letter: 'Seven months have elapsed, and nary a word. This in addition to the last five years of correspondence. . . . If there is one thing I strongly believe, every human being is entitled to know from whence they came, be it good or bad.' Yet the Foundling's system was entirely presaged on the idea that some people's origins need to be concealed. The tension between the Foundling's desire to keep unwed mothers' identities secret and the desire of former baby train riders to know about their origins foreshadows a central conundrum of modern adoption: the difficulty that adoptive children face in accessing information about their birth parents. The nationwide practice of sealing original birth certificates of adoptees and issuing revised documents that list the names of adoptive parents keeps secrecy alive. But that is changing—thanks to the efforts of adopted people and birth parents in recent years, adoptees in 15 states now have the right to access their original birth certificates. The conservative movement for anonymous infant relinquishment and supporters of Safe Haven Baby Boxes ignore this history and create a system that makes it difficult—if not impossible—for child and parent to ever learn the truth about one another. Babies surreptitiously left in such drop boxes will likely never have accurate birth certificates, and relinquishing parents swiftly lose their parental rights and any chance of legally reclaiming or reconnecting with their children. History has already taught us the harms of withholding self-knowledge and the possibility of reunification. It is past time we learn these lessons. Kristen Martin is the author of
Yahoo
09-05-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Left with Love: Inside the Baby Box Movement
ABILENE, Texas () – A year ago, Abilene introduced a safe option for new parents to surrender their newborns who are less than 60 days old. KTAB's special, 'Left with Love: Inside the Baby Box Movement,' uncovers the emotional stories behind baby boxes—haven drop-offs that save newborn lives and give families hope. WATCH TONIGHT: Left with Love, Inside the Baby Box Movement The Safe Haven Baby Box in Abilene is located at Fire Station #7. This facility allows new parents to anonymously surrender a newborn baby less than 60 days old. When a baby is placed inside the container, a silent alarm sounds until the door is securely shut. After the baby is inside the box, firefighters will come to the retrieval area in the truck bay to collect it. The baby is then examined and sent to Child Protective Services. How does Abilene's baby box work? A look inside Fire Station #7 Monica Kelsey, Founder of Safe Haven Baby Box, shared insight on how her passion helped her get started with helping babies and new parents who need to surrender their babies. Abilene Fire Chief Cande Flores explained how the station handles the situation once the babies are put in and how they safely handle it. In San Angelo, Melanie Wood and Chief of the San Angelo Fire Department, Johnny Fisher, hope to contribute to its legacy by introducing a Safe Haven Baby Box, a cause that speaks from the heart. 'The most recent was probably about seven or eight years ago…the baby was dropped off by the mother. Fire stations and hospitals are safe haven through the Moses Law, a safe places to surrender your babies,' Fisher recalled. The concept of a Safe Haven Baby Box is still in the planning stages, but there is a specific location and goal in mind. Fisher mentioned that they aim to install the baby box at San Angelo's Central Fire Station once the necessary funds have been raised. The Baby Moses Law, or Safe Haven, allows parents or guardians to surrender their infants safely and anonymously. In 2023, this law was revised to enhance the process by permitting the use of Safe Haven Baby Boxes, which provide a secure, temperature-controlled environment for the surrendering of infants. This ensures both the safety of the child and the privacy of the parent. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Yahoo
07-04-2025
- Yahoo
Life saving: Third baby safely surrendered in Hobbs Baby Box
Editor's Note: The video above references the criminal case that inspired the Safe Haven Baby Box movement across New Mexico. It first aired in 2022. HOBBS, New Mexico (KMID/KPEJ)- Advocates in New Mexico rejoiced earlier this week after another baby was safely surrendered in a Baby Box location in Hobbs. The infant marked the third safe surrender in the two years in which the box has been available to the community. There box, located at Hobbs Fire Station #1 at 301 E White Street, opened on May 9, 2023. Hobbs Fire Station #1 is located at 301 E White Street. The Baby Box is permanently located on the east side of the building, facing Fowler Street and is intended to serve women in crisis, while keeping their babies safe. Advocates pushed for the boxes across the state after an hours-old infant was rescued from a dumpster after his 18-year-old mother tied him up in a grocery sack and threw him into the bin and left him there shortly after he was born. Safe Haven Baby Box founder Monica Kelsey said, 'In January 2022, an infant was found in a dumpster six hours after his desperate mother placed him there. Today, this community is radically changed by the availability of an option for safe anonymous surrender. Three mothers have selflessly used this location now in under two years since the box was blessed and available for parents in crisis. We are pleased to see this community turn the tide on infant abandonment. Mothers in crisis are seeking anonymity; we know this and have seen our boxes' tremendous impact on communities. This birth mother loved her infant, and we are proud of her selflessness.' SHBB is the only organization in the nation dedicated to providing an anonymous surrender option for mothers in crisis. The organization was founded in 2016 by Kelsey, who learned in adulthood that she was abandoned as an infant. Now, her life's mission is to end infant abandonment and advocate for the Safe Haven Law. In addition to educating citizens on the Safe Haven Law, Safe Haven Baby Boxes provides free confidential counseling via its hotline, 1-866-99BABY1. A Baby Box allows for an infant's legal, safe, and anonymous surrender provided under the Safe Haven Law. It features three silent alarms alerting first responders to the presence of a surrendered infant. The baby will be attended to in under 5 minutes and taken to the hospital for medical evaluation. Termination of parental rights often occurs within 30 to 45 days, and the infants are placed with families who are signed up for foster care with the intention to adopt. Since 2017, 58 infants have been placed in a Baby Box. Nationwide, over 160 surrenders have resulted from calling the National Safe Haven hotline. Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
Yahoo
28-01-2025
- Yahoo
Florida installs new 'Baby Box' at Marion County fire station
The Brief Marion County Fire Rescue's new EMS Central fire station is now the home of a Safe Haven Baby Box, providing parents with an anonymous option for safely surrendering their newborns. The fire department says it plans to install the baby boxes at two of its other local stations. OCALA, Fla. - A Safe Haven Baby Box has been installed at a fire station in Marion County. A Safe Haven Baby Box provides parents with an anonymous option for safely surrendering their newborns at local fire stations. When a baby is placed inside the box, advanced technology immediately alerts first responders, who then provide prompt care and support for the child. Monday marked Marion County Fire Rescue's dedication of its first baby box at EMS Central, located at 1400 SW 6th Ave in Ocala. What they're saying"This Safe Haven Baby Box symbolizes hope, compassion, and safety. Its presence in our community reflects our mission to serve and protect every life in Marion County. We are honored to provide this critical resource to those in need." Marion County Fire Chief James Banta Dig deeper Monica Kelsey, the CEO of Safe Haven Baby Box, created the baby boxes to prevent illegal abandonment of newborns, with the organization's primary goal of raising awareness of the Safe Haven Law "through a variety of educational initiatives, public speaking engagements, and direct care provided to parents in crisis," according to the Safe Haven Baby Box's website. RELATED STORY: Newborn surrendered at Florida fire station 'Baby Box' It's a passion near to her heart, as she was abandoned at a small hospital just hours after her teen mother – who had been "brutally attacked, raped and left for dead on the side of the road" – gave birth. By the numbers The new baby box marks the 6th location in Florida. Marion County Fire Rescue said it plans to install more baby boxes at its Citra Fire Station #20 and its newly remodeled Golden Ocala Station #20. There are over 100 baby boxes located across the United States. To find a location near you, click here. The Source This story was written based on information shared by Marion County Fire Rescue and the Safe Haven Baby Box's website.
