"Ain't no mountain high enough..."

"If you need me call me,
No matter where you are,
no matter how far 
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry

'Cause baby there
Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough,
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you…"

Remember the day
when I set you free
I told you could always count on me.

From that day on
I made a vow
I'll be there when you want me
someday, somehow…"

I have always loved this song.  I can remember watching Diana Ross singing it on a variety show in 1970 and wondering what THAT kind of love would actually look and feel like.  Of course, for me at 16, that kind of care and devotion could only be "most perfectly" articulated in the form of a boy…a great boy…a boy who would call me after school and tell me he loved me.  A boy who would write me letters, every day, while he was away at camp.  Letters I would tie with a pale blue satin ribbon…once I had answered them with my own long missive written on sheer airmail paper with a fountain pen and sprayed with Chanel No. 5 before posting.  I was a bit obsessed with romance at 16. 

Little did I know that one day I would experience the perfect articulation of that song, but it wouldn't be in the form of a boy…or even a man…as much as I love my husband and am absolutely certain that there is no mountain high enough that it could keep him from getting to me if I called.  No, when I hear this song, I will always remember a girl-becoming-a-woman…who answered the call of a four year old.

It was 2001 and Emma and Clara (our then 4 year old twins) were sitting on the sofa watching a PBS program called "Arthur".  If you haven't seen it…you've missed out on some of the best animated educational programming…ever.  Arthur and his little sister DW are human-like aardvark (at least I think they are supposed to be aardvarks) children who have school friends who are rabbits, bears, kittens…and teachers who are anteaters…well, you get the picture.  The show explores social issues that are relevant to children, head on, but in a very thoughtful, loving way.  Honesty, responsibility, sibling rivalry, accountability, competition…and yes, adoption. 

This particular afternoon, the subject was adoption and although our daughters have always known that we became a family through the process of adoption - and have always known their birthmother Heidi, and had heard her referred to as a part of our extended family, I don't think it had actually sunk in yet what it all really meant. 

That afternoon however, Clara leaned over to me and asked me if she had a birthmother like the character in the program.  I told her that, yes indeed she (and her sister) did have a birthmother and then reminded her about our loved "friend" Heidi.   She asked if she had lived in Heidi's tummy "like DJ's (a friend from preschool) sister had lived in his mommy's tummy until she was ready to come out".  Again, I told her yes…and that Emma had lived there with her.  She said, "it must have been crowded in there".  We laughed and then she asked if I thought her birthmom had talked to her when she was "in there".  I told her that I was certain that she had.  And that was when Clara said, "I think I have been missing her for a long time."  

I can't say that I was at all surprised.  Although we had maintained contact with Heidi over the first four years of the girls' childhood, it had mostly been through letters, phone calls, cards and, through her parents.  There had been a couple of very brief visits, but not since the girls were quite small.  I knew that Heidi had talked with the girls when they were in her tummy, because she had told me she had. 

A few minutes later Clara said, "I think I need to see her, do you think she could come."  That was when I placed the call.  Heidi did come…as soon as she could.  She was there.  And she hasn't been very far away since.  She called girls, almost weekly,  through her years of college.  She has visited often and they have grown closer with each visit. 

When they were five she spent a week with them visiting their classrooms, going to activities with they and their friends.  Another summer the girls and I drove to her "neck of the woods" and stayed for over a month so that they could have almost daily visits with her and her family.  They sat with Heidi at her brother, their uncle's, graduation from high school, and have since shared many important family moments with Heidi at their side.

This week Heidi came in from New England for parent/teacher conferences, soccer practices and games, getting them ready for Halloween and lots of homework, taking to (and picking up from) school, cuddling, laughing, saying "no", and the dreaded getting-them-up-for-school-in-the-morning.

She is awesome.  She is a perfect mother.  She is wonderful.  They love her.  We all love her.

Last Saturday morning was adoption heaven…at least for me.  It was a cold, clear Fall morning.  There were two dozen or more 5th grade girls on the wet grass of the soccer field and twice as many parents on either side…some in folding soccer chairs with hot cups of coffee or tea, and others in the cold bleachers shivering and happy to have yet one more chance to see their girls do something they love….and are good at.

We were part of that second group.  From a distance we looked like three women, a man and a dog sitting on the bleachers with another couple of moms scattered nearby.  But if you had looked closely…through a more telling lens…you would hae discovered why this was heaven for me.

The dog was their beloved Daisy.  The man with the ever-present camera fixed on the field…ready to capture every amazing move… was the girls' dad. Their stepdad (my husband) was on the field helping coach.  The three women…were their three moms.  Yes, three moms...three devoted, adoring, obsessed-with-their-twins moms.  These girls have an extraordinary, fully-vested (a quantity of time does not validate motherhood) stepmom who couldn't be more loving, the most amazing birthmom - who loves them from the very core of her being, and me…their adoptive mom whose dreams came true that morning. In fact, even one of the other women on the bleachers has had a significant role in mothering our daughters over the last seven years, both as the mom of their best friend and as a faithful friend to their dad and I as we have sorted through the many changes in our family. 

No, we were not the picture of a traditional nuclear family, but we were a family...a complete, happy, whole family.  We laughed together when they said inappropriately 10-year-old things from the bench.   We screamed and jumped out of our seats in unison when they had the ball and broke away from the pack racing towards the goal.   And together, we were silent and prayerful…each of us transfixed on them as they "popped up" from where they had fallen ready to get back into the game…when they were fouled by an opponent.   There was no hierarchy…we were all just "mom/dad/parent" in my eyes.  Each one of us bringing something special to the table of their lives.  Each one of us with a special gift for this feast of love in which they are the guests of honor.

The Bible says that, "We have been predestinated to the adoption of children".  I believe this is true for all of us.  Since God is our Father/Mother, everyone's Father/Mother…everyone's true "birthparent"…aren't we all just adopted.  Regardless of "how" we find each other, how we come into eachother's lives, either through birth, adoption, marriage, thrown together by work or a parent's divorce and remarriage…we all have to adopt one another.  We have to surrender an old dream of how it could have, would have, might have, or I-dreamed-it-should-have been, for adopting what and who and where God sends us.

Is one mother the more perfect number?  I don't pretend to know the answer to that question for anyone else.  But for me, three (and who knows maybe someday four) is the perfect number for our girls. 

You know, we never think it is unnatural or unhealthy for a mother to love more than one child…in fact, my mother has eight children and we each know that we have all of her love and we are all sure that we are her favorites…or sometimes, when we are feeling particularly self-pitying,  that the youngest one is.   But a mother who loves two, four, eight or a dozen children is seen as generous, loving….amazing. We never wonder whether she CAN do it…we are just amazed when she does.  So why do we think a child can only love one mother or that a child with more than one mother is in a less than "natural" situation, or a less than ideal family.  Why don't we see that a child can love more than one mother as much as a mother can love more than one child.  In fact, why don't we see that the child that loves more than one mother (or father) is amazing, generous, giving…a child of grace and dignity…a child with a very big heart. 

I am proud of my daughters.  I am proud of the expansiveness of their hearts.  Hearts that have the flexibility and strength to stretch around all of us as parents, moms, and dads...  making us feel loved, needed, and wanted.

I think they learned some very important lessons from their mom, Heidi, who at 14 years old, taught them that the heart, like the tummy, can stretch beyond what may be imagined and give birth to a sense of family that is inclusive, honest, wonderful…and yes, different, but good…oh so good.

Thank you Heidi…you have taught me so much.  When they called…you answered.

"If you need me call me,
No matter where you are,
no matter how far 
I'll be there in a hurry
You don't have to worry

'Cause baby there
Ain't no mountain high enough
Ain't no valley low enough,
Ain't no river wide enough
To keep me from getting to you…"

We all love you,
Kate