First person: A young man celebrates the two mothers who gave him his life

My mother has always told me that she does not want me to go a day without knowing I am loved. The Bible defines love as being “patient and kind,” “always protects … trusts … hopes … perseveres,” and “never fails.”  A mother's love is exactly that, sometimes sacrificing to ensure her child is taken care of.

Which is why I say Happy Mother's Day to two women — the woman who brought me into this world and the woman who raised me in it.

I was adopted two days after I was born. And for long as I can remember, my parents and I have honored this day as Gotcha Day — the day we became a family. We light candles, one for my biological mother and father, and one for us.

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Like a birthday, it is celebratory. There were presents and stories of my parents getting the call from their attorney that their son was coming home.

My mother recalls being at the gym when she got the call.

She was in her 40s. She was the head of an agency helping Broward residents getting into the workforce. But, for as long as she could remember, she also wanted to be a mother. Her easiest "yes," she said, was saying "yes" to being my mom. Her dream was finally coming true.

Being the consummate planner, she had prepared for this moment. My homecoming clothes were laid out, my room was decorated, the car seat was in place long before I was even born. The only thing missing was me. And now I was a car ride away.

My parents made their way to Bethesda East Hospital, where the nurses and doctors were eager to see who was bringing this newborn home. Soon, I was in my mother’s arms, carried off to the car to head home.

For years, this is the story we reflected on annually. But there’s another side to that story.

Before my parents could put me in my outfit, or head to the hospital, a 19-year-old had to make the hardest decision of her young life — giving up her child for adoption. It was not until recently that I ever deeply considered this side of the story; but without it, well, things would be different.

I always knew I was adopted. I even had photos of my biological parents. I never knew them, but I always wanted to meet them.

After some research and “Facebooking," that changed three years ago, when I was 25. The high school graduation photo I'd had since birth, the one my parents were given in anticipation of my adoption before I was born, matched the woman I was now staring at online. Hesitant at first, I boldly sent a DM introducing myself and stating that I believed she was my biological mother. She responded immediately — she was and she would love to meet.

We went to brunch — ironically both of our favorite meals. We shared laughs, stories, and awkward silences at the reality that we were reunited. She shared her side of the story: a young woman that loved her son, wanted nothing but the best for her child, and knew what she had to do to make that happen.

The hospital scene was much different for her; she showed me pictures of me in her arms moments before I would be in my homecoming outfit with my mother. We shared more stories and laughs. We share the same face, but, I got my 6-foot-2-inch height from my biological father. She’s a mother of her own kids now and has always wondered what I grew up to be.

As the meal ended, she let me know how proud she was and that she had made the right decision.

My mother’s easiest yes, was my biological mother’s hardest.

Every day, I have known I was loved. Today, I know that I was loved by both of these women long before I was born. For that, I am truly grateful. Happy Mother’s Day!

This article originally appeared on Palm Beach Post: A young man celebrates both his birth and adopted moms on Mother's Day