I was 15-years-old and applying for my first job when I saw my birth certificate for the first time.

Age of Mother: 15

Wow.

I had always known that my existence wasn't planned and that you guys weren't ready for me, but I hadn't ever asked much or put too much thought into it. Now, mind reeling and trying to put myself in your shoes, there wasn't a single decent outcome I could come up with had I been in your position. I'm so proud of you. For choosing the road that meant it was time for you to grow up. I'm proud of the fact that you decided the world needed me, when had you chosen the other option, most people would have been understanding — supportive, even.

When you guys chose "life" you chose to bring a daughter into the world, unsure of how I would turn out, or how your life would turn out in the process. None of us were ready, and you had some figuring-out to do. That's okay. When you chose "life" you chose to age almost 10 years in nine months, and the 7-18 years with me after that is time you'll never get back. I understand that.

Thank you.

Because you chose "life," because you decided that I was a person who would matter, I feel like I should work harder to matter to you, to matter to a world that made it way too difficult to bring me up. I want my existence to matter to the people who've invested their time in a life that wouldn't have existed had a couple of kids made a different decision eighteen years ago. I want my existence to matter to a family who hasn't seen me for 10-11 of those 18 years because life after me got a little rough for at least two parties involved. I don't want your sacrifices to go to waste, because it's a miracle to me that I'm even here right now.

When you chose "life," or at least my life, you didn't know that I would be the kind of person to pull an all-nighter to finish a finals paper after working until 11 p.m. on a Tuesday night. You didn't know that I would be the kind of person who would graduate high school a year early or even the "college type." You didn't know that I would be the kind of person to put my baby brother first and the rest of the world second, or the kind of person who would adopt for myself someone else's baby brothers and snag up that sister (that I wanted the first time). You didn't know that I would be the kind of person to go out on a Friday night and try to wash away my shenanigans to get back to work on Saturday morning. You didn't know me, and you loved me anyway.

And I love you for that.

When you chose "life" you gave me the only tool I'd need to be exactly who I am today. You chose it without even knowing which life you chose and that alone is so amazing to me, because I could have made my own choices and I could have been this completely different person, regardless of what you gave me eighteen years ago.