Her mother had four that she could remember. She never went to the hospital but gave birth in their apartment with Celeste as mid-wife. They were sickly little things that wailed constantly with thin, desperate voices and died within the week. Celeste would come and wrap the pathetic little bodies in a baby blanket and take them away. She didn't even want to imagine where they ended up. She had been 12 when the last one had come. She had prepared for it, determined this one would live. She stole formula and diapers, raided trash cans for discarded baby stuff that she could clean up enough to be usable. It had been a little boy with huge chocolate colored eyes. He didn't last the day. She went to the big public library the next Saturday and began to read everything she could about babies.

She was currently working through the third year medical exams on record at the library, determined to acquire a full scholarship to one of the really good medical schools. She ran over her notes in her head as she made them both lunch and wished that there was some way to stretch Talia's Social Security check a little more. She wasn't going to be eating except on the school lunch program next week. She closed her eyes for a moment as the bleakness of her life threatened to swamp her with frustrated tears. She took a deep breath and told them firmly to go away. She wasn't that bad off. She saw many in the streets everyday who were in worse situations. She got to eat regularly, had a roof over her head and one person who loved her. That was enough.