The moment she opened her eyes she knew this child in her arms was her daughter. Not just because of the way her heart was no longer fractured or the way her soul sang, not even because of the instant surge of protectiveness she felt. No, the main reason she knew this was her daughter was because of her face. The same face that had formed with every stitch into her nightdress, the same face that had haunted her for weeks. The face of the child she had wanted for so long. The face of the daughter she now had.