My Hero

Trying to decide on a choice for my American icon was a very difficult assignment for me. I wanted to find someone who I could really spark a deep connection with, someone I really admire; so I looked through lists of famous celebrities, writers, photographers, artists, and great thinkers, trying to find someone that clicked with my personality and who I hope to become. A couple of days ago, I came home to find that I had been searching for something that had been right in front of me all along. How could I have overlooked the person who had been 100% by my side all along? Someone who I have personally seen overcome every obstacle put in front of them and beat the odds even when there was no hope left? My American icon is my mom, the strongest and most inspiring person I know.
My mom and I had very different childhoods, she made sure of that. As a young child she was abused by her own mother, beaten and starved and locked in the basement on regular occasions. She was taken from her home by child services at a young age and was put into foster homes, left with nothing but a broken jaw that she had to live with until she was able to get dental surgery in her late twenties. She was then raised to be a strict Fundamentalist-Baptist and was sheltered from doing the things that most teenagers do, like go out with friends or even listen to music. Finally, after high school, she broke away from her religion and became a child's advocate for Project Heartbeat, a program made to help children who came from broken homes. Most people would have given up at this point, but that wasn't something my mom was raised to do.

Growing up, I never wanted to be like my mom. It took about fourteen years and the uncovering of some information that had been kept from me to realize how lucky I am to have her. When I was seven years old, my dad took me on a spontaneous four-week vacation to Europe. After what seemed like an endless day of being forced to walk for miles and miles and look at old paintings in historical museums, I called my mom from one of the hotel phones crying. This phone call drastically changed my life in ways I could have never imagined. Little did I know, my mom was in the hospital undergoing intense treatments that the majority of people do not survive. The treatments were getting too rough, and she had reached the decision that she just couldn't do it anymore. She told the doctors to stop the treatments, a choice that would end the pain but also end her life. But after receiving that phone call, she realized that she couldn't leave me alone. She told the doctors to continue the treatment, and promised herself that she would stay alive long enough to watch me grow up. I am thankful every day that I picked up the phone and made that call.
I can not say that I can in any way relate to the pain and suffering that my mom has been through, but I am learning from her how to beat the odds even if they are all against you. I have been there with my mom when she battled cancer, both times; visited her when she was hospitalized for periods of time, watched her completely lose her memory for a period of two months, and all the while watched her do everything she can to make sure that I have the best life that she can provide for me. I can only hope to become as good-hearted and selfless of a person as she is.