The young girl graduated and left for college at Colorado State University. She spent a semester there, struggling to adapt to her new surroundings and unsure of what she wanted to study. Frustrated and lovesick, she moved back to Denver to be closer to that bad-boy fellow of hers. She enrolled in university in the city, got herself an apartment and a roommate, and was just settling into the swing of things when...
Something swung right into her. She was pregnant. It was the worst possible news at the worst possible time in the worst possible situation. She was broke, young, and unhappy; her relationship with the bad-boy was exactly as one might expect- bad. He was unkind on a level for which the term "unkind" does no justice. Her parents were strict Christians who would surely disown her for her indiscretion. Should she decide to marry her boyfriend, she would fate herself and her unborn child to a broken, abusive life. But what other options were there? Having an abortion was out of the question; she was staunchly pro-life and couldn't imagine losing her child. Putting the baby up for adoption was an alternative, but when she thought about the beauty and potential of the life inside of her she knew there was no way she could give birth and then let it go. Yet raising the child herself seemed the most fearful option of all: she was poor, uneducated, single, and could barely count on the support of her family (at first, that is).
What did she do?
Twenty-three years, four months and nine days later another young girl sits in a small corner cafe, wasting an hour between promotional work at crowded Saturday-night clubs. She sips tea, snacks, and reads a magazine she "borrowed" from a nearby stand to occupy herself. She absentmindedly turns to an article about a young woman who was forced to give her child up for adoption after her husband revealed that he had led a double life. Like the first young woman, the woman in the story was forced to determine the best possible decision regarding her future and that of her unborn child, a decision whose importance bears unfathomable consequences. The woman in the article decided adoption was the best choice; the first young woman kept her child.
Now that same child sat in a cafe, sipped tea, snacked, and looked at her reflection in the dark windows around her. She looked at her eyes and saw the iris of her mother; looked at her nose and saw the same Italian curve; listened to her heart and felt its courageous beat, knowing that the blood that pumped through it was a gift from her mother's life-giving blood.
My mom chose to keep me. She made the perfect decision, which is the best decision, which is the decision made from a careful analysis of all current data. My mom's heart, soul and circumstance instructed her that raising me was the right thing to do. Regardless of whatever decision she chose, it would have been right, because she was courageous and thoughtful and selfless and genuine in doing it.
Right now my mom is sitting away from me, reading her favorite magazine in her favorite chair with her favorite glass of wine. I love the way her hair looks in the soft light behind her. I love how humble and smart she is, that she reads every night and lets herself relax into it. I learn so much from my mother, both by watching her today and wondering about the woman she was before I was born. She reminds me that we can only make the best decisions and after that we just have to trust them and move forward. That risks can be taken and improved upon. And that love is the reason any of us are here at all.
I love you, Mom.
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