Mothers.

Most people have one mother. I on the other hand have two. There is the one who found out she was pregnant with me at the age of 21. My age. She gave me up. She looked past the easy outs of abortion and the long road ahead and decided to have me. She knew the pain and hurts that would come, but she persevered.

She gave me to my other mom.

My mom.

The mom who looked at me at 3 days old and loved me. The mom who took care of me through the many (and let me tell you, there are many) rough times. The bumps, bruises, explanations that began with, "But I was curious......", the piano lessons, school, the swimming phase, the soccer phase, the softball phase, the volleyball phase, the tennis phase, and even, yes, the gymnastics phase. She stood by me and cheered all the way through the games, the disappointments, the accomplishments, the recitals, the plays and musicals, hearing the coach say, "Well, maybe Rachelle should try something different...more within her talent range.." She stood by me when I went through that first breakup and when I messed up and when I forgot that note in the piano recital or that line in the play. She is wise, loving, amazing, pushing me to do the things that I need to do (even that home economics class and "proper etiquette training".) She perseveres and keeps the family going, even when we are tired and ready to quit. She loves us unconditionally and understands what we are going through. She doesn't jump to conclusions, even when we reveal secrets that no one else knows. She is thoughtful, always putting others first, and is the perfect mom that I could have ever asked for.

Happy Birthday Mommy! I love you!!!!