Nobody understands how hard it is to lose a child; not unless you, yourself have lost it. It was my fault. I ran Mia out of our home. The used needles and endless mess swept the sanity from my eyes. I couldn't help it. No amount of desperate yearning or effort could soothe my dire need for more, more, more. The feeling was indescribable; a high too far to touch, one as dark and infinite as space. It was shameful, but no amount of shame could dampen the need. When my daughter was born, she had neonatal abstinence syndrome. I was horrified. Was my daughter going to turn out exactly like me? Apparently, the doctors greatly feared that too, because they took her away faster than you could Google the words "neonatal abstinence syndrome." In vain I tried to get her back. Years and years of endless court dates and watching her grow up with different families. It was miserable; standing on the side lines as she learned to crawl and then to walk. I must’ve finally cracked when her first word, “mommy,” was babbled at a lady that wasn’t me. A lady who stole my child away from me. Mia needed to be back in my arms, safe from the hustles of unloving foster parents. I was the only one that could truly, undoubtedly love her —no conditions below the fine line. But I knew it wasn’t safe for her to be with me. I wasn’t even safe with myself. I watched life pass as if both our lives were on a movie screen. The distance was tearing me apart; the screen needed to be ripped, I needed to break through it. A change had to occur. A metamorphosis, even. Week after week after endless grueling week. My body rejected it. The pain wanted to be dulled —just a little bit— but no. Never again. I couldn’t pick up another needle. I couldn’t waste another dollar. Rationing what I had, I knew I could ween myself off it. All the clubs I went to were spent in teeth-gritting boredom. Some of my days and nights were spent cowering in bed, with fresh tears and a pounding headache. My one constant thought, my only good thought, was of my daughter. Eventually, the hollow cheeks filled out. My skin had a better, tanner glow to it. The thoughts in my head were clearer; the stupid-stumbling fogginess, vanquished. I knew I would probably never tarnish that stereotypical “druggie look” but I could at least try to erase it. For her. For Mia. And a little bit for myself. *** “Mom it’s okay I’ll be back before super.” The young woman carefully shut the door, giving the lady behind it a loving grin. She stopped dead when she saw me standing on the sidewalk, right outside her house. “Oh. Reina.” The surprise was evident on her face. It stung. Hearing her call another woman mom and not me. I had been walking up and down her street, nervous energy sparkling through my body. The courage I previously had was quickly diminishing, I just wanted to talk to her; to see how she was doing. “Mia. Look at you —your so…” I trailed off. The tears came of their own accord. “Beautiful.” “Happy.” “Healthy.” Any of those words could have finished the sentence, because she was. She was beautiful and healthy. She was happy and… old. So much older than from the last time I saw her. She looked at me, sorrow filling her eyes. But she didn’t cry, not like I did. She couldn’t possibly know what it felt like; to know your own daughter was a hundred times better without you. “Mia —I just wanted to see you.” She stood there, her mouth slightly agape. I looked behind her. The house was adorable: a classic Victorian vibe, one that I had similarly wanted but could never afford. In the window, a white curtain was drawn aside slightly. A small eye peaked from behind it. We had an audience. “Oh I don’t have a long time. Mason is right across the street. I was just…” Mia trailed off and my gaze landed on a small Ford truck that was parked on the other side of the street. A handsome man’s stare was fixated on me. His hand was on the door, ready to open it, I assumed. “Oh it’s okay. I just wanted to see… never mind it’s okay. I’ll go.” The door behind her cracked open a bit, another face appeared behind it. I was a stranger to these people; a person who would only pose a threat to Mia. All these people loved her: the adoptive mother standing behind the door, the child peering behind the curtains, the teenager sitting in a beat-up Ford. She had the life I wanted for her. She had everything she would ever need. I guess I wasn’t one of them. I sighed and turned to leave. “Wait.” Hope swelled in my chest. I beat it down quickly. If you expect disappointment you can never really be disappointed. I turned to look at her, a tentative smile hanging on my lips. “Can you come back tomorrow? I want to talk.” I stared at my daughter. This stranger I barely knew. It was a sad thought but true. I nodded my head and my nose sniffled. Before I could think twice, I walked towards her and wrapped her in a hug. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Thank you.” I whispered in her ear. When I pulled away, tears mirrored themselves on her face. I hadn’t ever thought to try to form a bond between us while I still… had my ‘bad habit.’ I had always hoped it wouldn’t be too late and hopefully, tomorrow, it won’t be. I walked home. My pride and my addiction mostly gone, but in its place was a swelling of happiness in my heart. This is the price I’ve paid for peace of mind. To face the possibility of humiliation and rejection so I could proudly see my daughter —even after all these years. It was worth it. Even if Mia technically wasn’t “mine” anymore. I’ll get used to that thought. Eventually. With time.