One ride, a trip to meet friends, would rob her of her girlhood. One moment would steal her innocence of youth. One brutal assault would brand her dishonorable and drastically shift her path. One man would leave her abandoned without any option but to be strong beyond her years. In one taxi, fueled by hate, one new life would take form.
Halfway around the world a mom grieved for the loss of her daughter. She had traveled across the ocean with the promise of new life only to return to her eager husband and excited two sons empty-handed. She had gone to complete their little family. When she arrived she found a baby girl fighting for her life. Megan was days old when she was left at the orphanage, her heart condition already eating away at her short life. Her tiny hands permanently formed into fists from fighting through pain. They alone exposed the true strength of a beautiful soul deemed too bright for its humble body. In one taxi, fueled by love, a life would be reclaimed.
In the same country that Megan would draw her last breath, the sixteen year-old girl would bear the shame dictated by her culture. Alone for the first time she would find sanctuary at an orphanage. There a social worker with the orphanage would become her surrogate mother during the next nine months that would reshape her future. Alone she would carry her fears, her loss, her heartache and the mystery of the heart beating inside her. Alone her youth would give way to strength beyond her years as she brought a new, innocent life into the world. And just as quickly as she’d been unified with the new life of a baby girl, she would give her daughter a second life. And she would go forward alone.
Across the ocean the young mom received a call. Though her heart was still tender with the ache of fresh loss, she listened as the social worker told her of a new baby. A baby who found herself alone. The social worker softly reminded the young woman of the love she had yet to give and of the strength for which she knew she was capable. And so half a world away, one mother became a mom again. And one baby received a new life.
This is not my story. This is the story of two moms: two great moms who have never met, yet together gave me life.
One mom, through strength I cannot even fathom, chose me before herself. She chose to keep herself healthy and find a new “home” so she could give me life. And then, she chose to give me life again by giving me up. I will never fully understand the turmoil and heartache she survived. The little I do know, I know she has been marked by that one moment. The moment her life was not totally her own any longer.
I can never repay her for her strength.
Though she doesn’t know it, to me she will always be a warrior. My first guardian angel. My first mom. She was and is a good mother.
Another mom, my mom, gave me a second life. This life. This life that made me whole. Through her grief she somehow found the strength to open her heart to an unknown baby who was alone in the world. She raised me with a life lit up by love. A life that would not know of the darkness that led to its creation. Hers was the strength that completed our family.
Her strength meant I would never be alone again.
She was and is a good mother.
Because this was not my story, it was difficult to share the details without feeling as if I were stealing. But this is a story of love. It’s a story of how the strength of two women made me the woman and mom I am today. Gave me the opportunity to be this person. It is a story of two women. Two women strong as mothers.
Mallory is a “new” mama to the Shrimpress, a lover of Tribes and inspiration addict. She fulfills both roles of a stay-at-home and working mom alongside a fantastic husband who has given in to embracing all things pink. When not trying to slow time down, she’s hosting dance parties to T-Swift and making up songs with her daughter. You may find her sharing social media goodness as @amalloryd and leading a celebration of circular living at ACircularLife.
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