I stand there. Stuck, frozen, I can’t breathe. “Is this real? How can it be? Will she be afraid of me? Would she even know how I am? Will she hate me? How do we go from here?” A million questions running though my head. “Am I happy? Scared?” I just stand here, frozen, in the hallway of the hospital I never heard of. Everything is blurry; I see movement, I hear the sounds of monitors beeping and nurses talking about the people here. I hear people laughing, people crying, but, at the same time I hear nothing. Nothing except for her,I hear her unfamiliar voice that makes my heart skip a beat. I find myself moving close so I can hear her sweet and soft voice. Finally I am at the doorway of a room. The room is warm and has many beautiful colors, it must be a play room for the children of parents waiting to talk to the doctor or something, I don’t care. There is a police officer in the room talking to the girl. The girl; she looks scared and confused and...and so beautiful. The girl jumps and runs to hide when I open the door. I still. “ Is she scared of me? What can I do?” My mind racing with questions and fears but then interrupted when the officer speaks “ It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s safe here.” I realize she is talking to the girl. “ oh no she is scared of me.” I start to cry, my heat is breaking “My baby is scared of me!”. The officer nods at me letting me know it will be ok; I sit slowly on the soft floor trying to think of what to say or what to do. Then it hit me. I pulled a picture out of my top left jacket pocket. I look at or for a moment and with trembling hands set it in from of me. The little girl stairs in fear then in curiosity. After a moment or two the girl start to come out grabbing to picture. I don’t move. She stills. Then she stays, looking at the picture. The girl is beautiful she has my black hair, its unkept but I can see it’s thick, long and straight. Her eyes, her eyes is blue like the sky after the sun set, the kind of blue that looks into you soul. My god, she has her mothers eyes. She looks up at me confused, in a small and soft voice she asked “Is this me?” She hand me the photo. The picture is a woman with red hair and blue eyes holding a new born baby with dark hair, the woman is smiling at the sleeping, black haired baby. Yes,” I say softly not wanting to scare her off again, “ this was taken a week before...” I stopped. “Before I was taken.” She finished. Fighting my tears “ This was your mother and this is you...Harriet.”