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College Essay

When we type in the word family into Google we see the words, “all the

descendants of a common ancestor,” but to me, that is not family. To me, family does

not mean we have the same mom or the same dad, in fact to me family has nothing to

do with whose blood I formed from or for whom I share the same blood with. To me

family is love. Now my definition of love was altered for a very long time due to the loss

of grandparents, the divorce of my parents, meeting and never seeing “step” parents

again, but on December 26, 2012, my definition of love grew, and my family grew as

well.

My dad and stepmother had been trying to have a child for many years, after

each miscarriage and failed explanations from doctors, they had almost given up faith

in bringing life into the world. Until one day when a women named Amber had contacted

my family saying she was pregnant and had no want for a child at the time. She

explained how she had contemplated abortion and how she was a recovering drug

addict. She told stories of her many children in foster care and how her and the baby

she was caring in her stomach belonged to an African American man who wanted less

to do with this baby than her. This brought many red flags to the table, but my family

saw an opportunity to not only save this young life but bring him up in a family

orientated Christan household. We agreed to meet up with this woman and get more

information. After the meeting, we suddenly saw a growing family in our future.

As months passed and Amber's stomach grew, so did our nerves. We knew that

since Amber was the “biological” mother to this boy, she had every right to walk out of
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this adoption. Although our hearts would be shattered, that is how the system works.

So, we waited very patiently until December 26, 2012, when we got a call from the

women who was bringing my baby brother into this world. She immediately broke down.

She explained how she had relapsed 3 times in the past month. She also explained how

she was going into labor and this baby could come out having extreme with draws due

to the substance abuse of heroin. The only option my family had was to pray.

Later, that day my baby brother was born. His name was Malachi Joshua

Johnson. He by the grace of God he was a healthy little boy, he had dark eyes and hair.

My dad could hold him in the palm of his hand. When I first got to hold him my definition

of family changed. Even though we do not look the same or have the same blood does

not mean that I love him any less. I have learned through this process that family is the

ones I love, the ones who I know I can keep forever. I also learned that love is deeper

than skin color or where you come from, because Malachi was a different color than me

and had a harder beginning, but I loved him more than I had loved anything else in my

life.

Six months had passed, and the day had come were we finally got to officially

adopt Malachi. This meant nothing in my heart because to me, he had always been my

baby brother. Malachi has taught me many lessons but the biggest one is how true

family means more than any relationships I will ever have. So, when I look at the

definition on google of family, I do not agree. That will never be my definition of what

family means to me.