In 2002, my “mother” got pregnant for the sixth time. She had kept three of the kids, put one up for adoption, and the other lived with the dad. She wanted to get an abortion so she could keep doing drugs, but after my dad and grandma didn’t let that happen, she kept the baby, but also kept doing drugs. In March of 2003, on a snowy day, that baby girl was born, and that baby girl was me. After spending nine months in the womb, exposed to meth and god knows what else, it was a miracle I didn’t have any apparent problems, and an even bigger miracle I had turned out to have no problems at all!