Almost twenty-one years ago I was birthed by someone who I thought would always be there. Someone to celebrate getting my license, my eighteenth birthday, prom, graduation, and my wedding day; but, like most things, life has a funny way of making things work out for the better of you.

At sixteen years old my biological mother made decisions of what was most important her; that choice did not include what was best for me. Life got hard and I started having the worry and fear for things that most don’t deal within until they are grown themselves.

I had almost lost hope when one day I was told “you’re gonna stay here now. This is your home.” Hearing those words put the joy in my heart that I hadn’t felt in such a very long time. Hearing those words meant my mother was choosing to be my mother. She was choosing me.

So to my mother, thank you from the very bottom of my heart. Thank you for choosing to tending to me during sicknesses and heartbreaks. Thank you for being there for every milestone. Thank you for always cheering me on and being my biggest fan.

So no at the end of the day we do not share the last name, our DNA does not match, she didn’t carry me in her stomach for nine months, but she is my mother. She is the mother that chose me, and for that I am mostly thankful.