I see a light. Then it gets dark again. Then I see another light.
I look around. I see someone. I look at her more closely. She seems distant, yet vaguely familiar. She starts to speak in a soft voice. For a moment I am in her arms, and I am happy.
But then they take me. I am unhappy. So I cry.
It's all I can do, really. I don't know how to do anything else. I cry so loud. They take out a needle and poke it into my arm. The world goes dark.
And that was the last I saw of the familiar lady.
I am taken to a room with lots of other newchildren. I here someone call it the Nuturing Center. I am placed in a basket. I am tired, and don't feel like yelling, so I sleep.
I wake up and see a nice-looking man with big, broad shoulders and a happy smile. "Hello, little newchild!" he says. "Can I tell you something? I think that you're my favorite this year," he whispers.
I am content, but I wonder about the lady. The way she held me. She made me happy. I had heard her voice before. I'm not sure when, but I had.
There had been a before. A before I saw the light. A before I woke up. Somewhere else before.
Somewhere warm, loving, a place where I knew the lady.
That was where I knew her. How I knew her. She was in before with me. Yet I had never seen her in before. She was there though. She wasn't next to me, to my left, right, above me or below me.
It was almost like I was inside of her.
I try to picture her face. I can't, though. I don't remember anything about her. Except her comforting voice. And her light eyes.
I look around to see that everyone here has dark eyes. Hmm. But I am sure that the lady had light eyes. They were different. And they were beautiful.
I want to see the lady again. But she is not here. So I cry.
I cry and cry and cry and cry. Someone finally comes over. I cry louder. Then someone else comes over. "Hmm," says the first man. "He's a fighter. He's loud. We might need to release him." Release? What's that? It sounds terrible. I have to know what it is. "Give him a break," says the second man. I quickly notice that this is the same man who told me that I was his favorite earlier. "He was just born today. He needs time. I'm sure he'll be a perfect child, and some lucky parent will be able to take him home."
I cry louder. I don't understand everything they are saying. But it doesn't sound good. I just want to be in the arms of the lady. I cry and cry and cry.
"It's almost like he wants his Birthmother," the first man says. Birthmother. That must be the lady. I want her.
I want my Birthmother.