With Mother’s Day coming this weekend, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom, as I usually do.

My name is Anna, I’m 19 and I grew up without my mom.

She was diagnosed with lung cancer while she was pregnant with me and died a few weeks after my birth. That being said, it’s hard to say I miss her because I never actually knew her. All I have are pictures and vague, made-up memories, probably highly romanticized, from stories retold to me throughout my life. I know what she looked like and who her friends were. I know how she pronounced the word “Florida” and I know she was always late for everything and loved to sleep.

I don’t know what her laugh sounded like, or what it feels like to be hugged by her. I don’t know what she smelled like or what the fire in her eyes looked like when she got angry. I don’t know what it is like to come home after a bad day at school and have my mom ask me about it and give me advice like only a mother could. I don’t know what it’s like to become a woman and have my mom look at me with love and wonder as she watches her daughter grow into herself. I don’t know what it feels like to make her proud.

Mother’s Day used to be extremely hard for me. Everyone starts posting about their mothers and they say things like, “Everyone needs their mother." I saw that quote just recently and it hurt a little bit, even now. We don’t need our mothers, do we? I’m here and I’m relatively normal. Our mothers are people we take for granted. There are plenty of mothers that don’t want to be moms and sometimes they just leave. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard mothers say there were many moments when they wished they weren’t mothers. It’s generally understood that being a mother is pretty damn hard. However, when you have someone like me, who grew up without a mother, it begs the question: Can anyone be a mom? I know it sounds like a stupid and obvious question, but I’ll explain what I’m really asking by answering.

Although I grew up without my mother, I didn’t grow up without a mom, or rather moms. The love I have felt and received by people who have come into my 19 years of life has been overwhelming and strong enough to make me feel like the most cherished being in the whole world. My aunts are my moms. My best friend since the second grade is definitely my mom. My brother, who was there and comforted me when I got my period for the first time, is my mom. Any person that has come along and shown me kindness and love is a mom to me. Most importantly, my dad is my mom. It’s one thing to be someone’s father, it’s another to be two kids’ father and mother. So, while I didn’t get to listen to my mom give me advice about boys and how to be myself in a world that is constantly trying to define me, my dad has given me precious and invaluable advice and support in all things, including boys, love and heartbreak.

I think it is also important to note that I am in no way devaluing what it means to be a biological mother. Carrying a child inside of you, birthing it and raising it is a completely unique and powerful experience that I have yet to truly understand. Mothers are ethereal, powerful beings that should never be taken for granted, even by me.

What I’m really trying to say is thank you. I’m saying that even if you aren’t actually a mother, you are a mom. I’m redefining motherhood for my own life. To me, a mom is anyone who shows love and compassion, anyone who has set aside their own needs for more than two seconds to help another person out. A person who sees my pain and holds it, telling me that this pain is going to make me strong someday and tomorrow is a new day and that is something to behold.

This is an open letter to my mother, but it’s also an open letter to all of my moms and all of the humans out there who know exactly what I’m saying and can feel that love burning deep down. This one is for all of you. Happy (almost) Mother’s Day.