Yesterday, my neighbor knocked on my door. She said she would be back on Sunday, then left her six kids on my doorstep. Before I could say much, she hurried into a black cab and disappeared down the street. At first, I just stood there in shock, staring at these children. Their ages ranged from a toddler who could barely walk to a teenager with headphones on. I felt both alarmed and unprepared. I had never babysat that many kids at once, and I wasn’t sure what to do next.

I invited them into my living room, offering snacks and juice to help them settle down. I tried to call their mother’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. The toddler tugged at my shirt, crying for her mom. The teenager scrolled on a cracked phone but didn’t say anything. The others looked bored, restless, and uneasy. Their mother had left without any instructions, no emergency contact, and no way to reach her easily. It struck me as irresponsible and a little cruel.

My husband was out running errands, so I tried to handle the chaos alone. I turned on a cartoon and asked the older kids if they wanted to color or play a board game. They shrugged, half-interested. The toddler kept crying, so I picked her up and rocked her. I felt a growing sense of panic, thinking of the day ahead. How would I manage six kids all by myself? More importantly, what if something bad happened? What if one of them got sick or hurt?

As the hours passed, I realized their mother might not come back anytime soon. It was only Wednesday, and she said she would not return until Sunday. That meant four whole days and nights in my small home, with no extra clothes or supplies for the kids. My pantry was not stocked for such a big group. We only had a single guest bedroom, and even then, we had not planned for overnight visitors, let alone six children.

I tried calling my neighbor again but received no response. I searched for any relatives of theirs, but I did not have contact details for anyone else. My frustration grew. I knew there had to be a better solution than just letting the children stay with me for days on end. Plus, my husband and I both worked during the week, and neither of us had arranged time off. If my neighbor was truly in trouble and needed help, she should have explained her situation more clearly. Instead, she just dumped her kids at my door and vanished.

Around lunchtime, my husband came home. He was shocked to see our living room filled with children. I explained the situation as best I could, trying to keep my voice calm. He agreed that it was strange, but he suggested we try to look after them until their mother returned. He did not like the idea of calling the authorities or Child Protective Services right away. He wanted to give my neighbor the benefit of the doubt, hoping she would come back and explain everything.

But as the afternoon wore on, the kids became more restless and upset. One of them found a photo of my neighbor’s mother in my neighbor’s social media profile, so we tried calling that grandmother, but the line was disconnected. My nerves felt frayed. The toddler needed a nap, but we had no crib. One of the middle kids said he was hungry for something we didn’t have. Another started crying for her mom. The teenager wandered around outside, looking bored and irritated. I felt overwhelmed and worried about legal issues. What if something happened to these kids while under my care?

By early evening, I decided I could not handle this alone. I told my husband that we should call Child Services to ask for advice. Maybe they could find a relative who could take the kids. Maybe they could give us instructions on how to handle this until Sunday. My husband said that might make matters worse, but I felt we had no other options. We dialed the local office and explained everything: the sudden arrival, the mother’s departure, the lack of instructions, and my fear for the kids’ well-being. They said they would send someone to check on the children.

Two hours later, a social worker showed up with a small team. They asked the kids some questions, checked the house, and concluded that my neighbor had abandoned them, at least for now. Because there was no clear plan or signed permission, and because she had left them without any contact number, they had to take the children to a safe facility until they could figure out what was going on. I felt torn. I wanted the kids to be safe, but I also worried about how this would affect them emotionally. However, I saw no other solution at that moment.

The next day, I sent a text to my neighbor, letting her know Child Services had come. I even attached a short video showing the children leaving with the social worker. My neighbor did not reply. My husband and I then had a big argument. He thought I had acted too fast by calling Child Services. He believed we could have managed somehow until Sunday, or at least tried harder to reach any relatives. I argued that it was not safe to keep so many kids without proper planning or permission. What if something bad had happened and we were blamed? I told him that the well-being of the children had to come first.

We are now barely talking. My husband feels guilty that we gave the children over to strangers. He also thinks our neighbor will never forgive us and might cause more trouble later. Meanwhile, I feel a mix of relief and regret. The kids are safe with professionals, but I wonder if I made the best choice. Maybe my neighbor truly had an emergency, and now she may be in even more distress. Still, I think about how she left the kids with almost no explanation. Could that ever be right?

I have a heavy heart as I clean up our house. Children’s drawings and half-eaten snacks remind me of the chaos from yesterday. My phone buzzes now and then, but it is not my neighbor or the social worker—just random alerts and messages. My husband and I still exchange tense looks and short words. Part of me wants to say sorry, but another part believes I did the right thing.

So now, hearing my story, what would you have done if you were in my shoes?