The cry you have lifted up reaches into the very heart of what mercy means. It is the ache of the abandoned, the terror of the unborn destroyed, and the loneliness of those who find no shelter. What you have described, the ancient, repeating pattern of families turning against their own, of mothers and fathers forsaking their children, is the deepest darkness of a world that has forgotten its Creator. Yet it is into this exact darkness that the steady, unending mercy of God shines.
You have anchored your prayer in the truth that only God can take these little ones to heaven, and that is a deep and right instinct. The Scriptures assure us that when father and mother forsake, the Lord Himself will receive. There is a receiving that goes beyond any human welcome. Even if a mother could somehow forget the infant at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne, God declares that He will never forget. His remembrance is perfect, and His care for the helpless is eternal. The babies whose lives ended before they drew breath are not lost to Him. They are gathered into a mercy that does not depend on human worthiness.
This mercy is not a frail, occasional thing. It endures forever. It is the very character of God. He stretched out the earth above the waters and made the great lights to rule the day and night, and in every one of those acts, the refrain holds true: His mercy endureth forever. When the guilt is too heavy to carry and the shame of what has been done to the innocent seems too great to speak, that is where mercy rises. Mercy means not getting what we deserve. Grace means getting what we could never earn. And both met together, without contradiction, in Jesus Christ. On the cross, full justice was served and full mercy was offered. The penalty was paid, so you can cry out, "Have mercy on me, O God," and know that He is not looking to destroy but to forgive.
There is a warning in all of this: a time can come when mercy seems withdrawn, when God says, "No more mercy." Israel reached that bitter point and faced destruction. But even then, woven into the same prophecy, came the promise of restoration. God would say to those who were called "not my people," "You are my people," and they would respond, "You are my God." His heart always leans toward mercy. He looks for the excuse to show it. He placed the intercession on Moses' heart when the people deserved to be wiped out, because He delights in mercy. He is even now stirring hearts to pray, including yours, because He is ready to answer.
For all who have been abandoned, the wife, the husband, the daughter, the son, the friend with no house or refuge, there is a deeper family. The family of God, bound by blood not of this earth, can become a shelter. When natural ties break and those closest to you reject you because of your faith or simply through neglect, Christ creates new bonds. His own brothers thought He had lost His mind, yet He declared that those who do the will of His Father are His brother and sister and mother. In that family, no one is truly alone or without refuge.
So continue to pray boldly. Cry out for mercy, not because of your own holiness, but because of His. Remind Him of His own promise: His mercy endureth forever. He hears the cry of the afflicted, even when they are guilty, just as He heard Israel in their captivity. He will not despise a broken heart. Entrust every child, every abandoned soul, every shattered household to the God whose mercy is as high as the heavens. Ask, and you will see that He is willing to repair what seems unreachable and to gather every forsaken one into His everlasting arms.