Motherhood, in my opinion, is not about giving birth. I say this because the woman who gave birth to me is not my mother. I am grateful that she had me but she's not my mother. My mother is the woman who raised me, who made my homecoming dress, who cleaned up after I threw up from the top of my bunk bed when I was ten, who made me a whipped cream and peach cake when I was twelve because I decided that was what I wanted (even though my birthday is in September, long after fresh peaches are available), who can tell you the name of my first boyfriend and the woman who taught me to be the woman I am today. Not that I'm as close to sainthood as she is, I would have to spend the rest of my life devoted to charity work to be half as good as she is, but I try.
My mother has raised me since I was a little girl and been my best friend since day one. After my father died we talked about her adopting me. (Actually, we had talked about it for years, but we knew my birth mother would never agree.) We finalized the adoption in January of 2003. In April of 2003 she was diagnosed with an aggressive form of breast cancer. We had already been through a series of horrible trails in our lives (they say God tests you with these trials but I think next He should test me with great wealth and happiness because I've certainly had my share of the yucky stuff!). She joked that, now that she had cancer, I would regret my decision to be her adopted daughter.
Mommy, I will never regret being your daughter. I am more grateful for you than I am for anything else in my life. I would have gladly changed places with you when you were sick. I don't know what my Father did to make you fall in love with him but I'm sure glad he did. Whatever guardian angel I had was certainly looking out for me when he brought you into my life. I never understood how people could argue with their moms or not get along with them. Sure, we disagree sometimes and I'm sure we frustrate each other occasionally (we are human after all, at least I am) but you have always listened to me and respected me and I really appreciate that. I loved being able to come home after school and telling you about my day. I loved learning all of the practical things in life from you. And I loved having the opportunity to see you grow into a stronger, more confident woman than you were when Daddy was alive. You are a constant source of inspiration to me. I love you no matter what. I know Will and I make fun of your quirky ways (the left hand turn can be tricky) but it's one of the things I love most about our family, how much time we spend together, just laughing.
This year you will have been in remission for five years. I think God every day that I still have you. I don't know what I would do without you. And I want to make a success out of my life more for you than for myself. You are so wonderful (and you kick our butts at Wii!) Thank you, for all that you are and for all that you have given, always unselfishly. And I love you.
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