Nothing in my life ever came easy. Born into struggle, I carried it like a heavy coat, but I never let it stop me. My one goal was to raise my son, Aiden, with love and a chance at a better life than I had. Working as a janitor wasn’t glamorous or respected, but it kept us going.

I told Aiden, “Momma’s got you covered,” as he left for boarding school. I wrote to him every week, believing in him. He grew into a bright young man with a love for science and eventually met Linda—the daughter of one of the doctors at the clinic where he shadowed. When I met her, I saw a kind woman who didn’t judge me for my job.

Linda’s parents didn’t approve at first because of my background, but they eventually agreed to pay for a lavish wedding. At the celebration, their thinly veiled judgment was clear, but I stood proud. When it was my turn to speak, I gave them a surprise: the house key, bought with the college savings I never used.

By the end of the year, Aiden had finished his doctorate and joined the practice. I retired, finally recognized and respected—not just by Linda’s family, but as a mother who fought and won. Life had come full circle. The janitor mom had earned her place at the table, and no one could take that away.