I discovered a newborn baby, who turned out to be my nephew, left on my doorstep twenty-seven years ago. The infant that belonged to my brother Tommy was left behind when he disappeared without a trace. Michael is the name that my husband Carl and I gave to the child whom we brought up as our own. In spite of the fact that it was not an easy choice, we took everything into consideration and saw him develop into a guy who is courteous and diligent. Nevertheless, I frequently experienced the emotional barrier; despite the fact that I brought him up as a son, he never referred to me as “Mom.”
During Michael’s visit to us for dinner two days ago, there was an unexpected knock at the door in the middle of the meal. Tommy was the one. He blamed me for abandoning Michael as a father and claimed that I had stolen money that he had sent for Michael’s care. He was extremely depressed and resentful. The reopening of ancient wounds left Michael speechless and uncertain about who he could trust. Tommy was adamant that he had put forth every effort to come back, but I had ruined everything.
The prospect of losing the son that I had brought up broke my heart. However, Michael made his choice abundantly obvious. In addition to reminding Tommy that I was the only person who had ever been there for him, he told Tommy that he did not believe the lies that he had been telling. After that, Tommy left, once more by himself, exactly as he had done previously.
Following the event, Michael gave me a hug and at long last addressed me as “Mom.” He went so far as to surprise us with a gift, which was a bungalow by the water for Carl and me. It was at that precise time that I came to the realization that love is not always a result of biological factors; rather, it is constructed through selflessness, concern, and faithfulness on a daily basis. Furthermore, in his eyes, I was his real mother, and I had always been his mother.
