Julia's hands trembled as she unfolded the report.
She read the first page.
Then the second.
Her eyes filled with tears.
She looked toward me.
The conclusion supported a biological mother-daughter relationship between us.
I couldn't speak.
Julia covered her mouth.
"Oh, my God."
Catherine began crying.
Emily reached for my hand.
For twenty-nine years, I'd wondered nothing about the baby I'd brought home.
Now I was learning that another child I'd never known had spent those years only a few towns away.
Julia stood slowly.
"You're my mother."
I nodded through tears.
"Yes."
She stepped toward me.
For one brief second, I was terrified she'd turn away.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around me.
And I held my daughter for the first time.
Not as a newborn.
Not as a toddler.
But as a grown woman who had lived an entire life without knowing I existed.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
