Ultra Sound

 For every little girl lost...

She reached out and picked it up gently, cradling it carefully in her hands as if it were glass as if it would shatter. It was all she had left of that perfect fragment of life she had held in her arms for barely a moment.

The picture blurred and she dashed her tears away.

She remembered how the tiny girl had hardly had enough strength to cry. Her breathing was shallow, her skin deathly pale, stretched taut across her fragile bones. They had snatched her away in an instant, and she had never seen her again.

When she asked they told her she wasn't fit to be a mother. Too young, too irresponsible, too selfish.

That wasn't true. She had chosen to keep her, to give birth to her. And she had known, the way only a mother can, that something was terribly wrong with her little girl. Even though, in her eyes, she was completely beautiful. She didn't even know her own daughter's name.

They told her to straighten up, to get a job, a place, a life. Then maybe she could have her back.

She'd done that. She'd made an effort. Now she was going to ask for her baby.

The bus stopped and she tucked the photo away. Close to her heart.

She got out, walked up the path and into the building. She moved quickly, instinctively knowing where to go; she had done this so many times before. She sat down, waited, her mind not quite there. Someone came out and told her she would be seen now. She got up and followed them, almost in a daze.

Elation sat in her chest, just under her heart. Hope sang through her veins.

The lady at the desk seemed surprised to see her.

"Maxine? I didn't think you'd come back."

She didn't seem to hear.

"I've done it," she said. "I've got a job. And I've stopped...all that stuff. All on my own. I'll have a flat soon."

"That's very good, but..."

"Here," she said, thrusting something towards her. "Here's some of my paperwork. So you know I'm telling the truth. I'm working at the Inn."

"That's nice Maxine, but..."

"I want her back now. I want my little girl back."

She looked at her expectantly, and the social worker looked back. Her face was flat and expressionless, but there was a tiny spark of sadness in her eyes. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, like a fish out of water, and then said,

"You can't have her."

Confusion filled Maxine's features.

"What do you mean?"

"They've said you can visit her. She's been fostered."

"Fostered?" Her face crumpled up. Hysteria rose in her voice. "What do you..." Why? Where is she?"

"You can't take her back yet, Maxine. They need to see that you're responsible enough."

She was crying now. Her head hurt with the pain and unfairness of it all.

"I don't understand!" she shouted, not quite sure who she was talking to, or what she meant. "She needs her mother! I need her!" She sobbed uncontrollably, her whole slender frame shaking with the tears.

"There's nothing I can do about that," the lady told her softly, and escorted, no- almost pushed her out of the room.

She banged her fist on the closed door, drawing many surprised glances, and then, giving in, left.