"as I write this letter,
send my love to you,
remember that i'll always
be in Love with you..."
People often ask me how many children we have. For many, this would be an easy question. For me, it is a balancing act between what is true in my heart, and who would appear at an immediate family reunion.
There are the three daughters that my former husband and I became family with through adoption, and the son and daughter that my husband brought into my heart through marriage. So, the somewhat easy answer is five.
But that is not really true. It leaves out the son who we were adopting - many years ago - before his first mom decided to parent him herself. And it doesn't acknowledge the daughter I carried, but who passed before her birth. It also doesn't take into account all of the children that my heart has loved as nieces, nephews, students, campers, counselors, neighbors, our children's friends, and the "third twin" who always made Emma and Clara's childhood more of a joy than I can say.
Today, I am holding our daughter, Jane, tenderly in my heart. She passed before her birth, but there is not a day that goes by that I don't pray for her spiritual growth and journey in grace, as her mom -- as one who has loved her dearly and deeply. She is the one that makes me hesitate - most viscerally - when asked how many children I have.
As I thought about her this morning in prayer, it occurred to me that, unlike her sisters and brother, she is not "of an age," in my heart. She just is. I no longer speak to her with any sense of how many years it has been since her passing. I write to her as an equal. As a child of God. Not a child of Kate -- or any other person. Loving her has taught me so much about shedding a personal, or proprietary, sense of motherhood. I pray each day that she is with someone who mothers and cherishes her as much as I do.
This is also something I have learned as an adoptive mother. I have never known what it feels like to think that I am someone's "only mother" -- I share each of the children in my life with other mothers. Birth mothers, step mothers, grandmothers, camp moms, corral moms, mother-in-laws. So this sense of release comes without the heartache of "but I am her only -- her real mom..."
Somedays, I find myself writing letters to these beautiful children in my heart, on paper, and in the wind. This morning it was a letter to Jane that prompted this post. The song that came with it was the Beatles' classic, "p.s., i love you..." I know this song was probably written as a romantic love letter, but for me it is all about the love we feel for those we don't see everyday, but who live and breathe in our hearts.
dear jane,
this morning i am thinking about you, and the beautiful strong women that i am absolutely certain God has brought into your experience. Women for you to e cherished by -- and to learn and grow with. i pray you know, that from where i am, i hold you close each day -- and, i let you go.
this always feels like breathing. drawing my sense of you close -- to cherish each of your remarkable spiritual qualities, then releasing you -- to bless and be blessed -- over, and over, and over again.
i am at camp -- again. this is often where i see you in a timeless, ageless flow of spiritual maturity. I can feel your innocence and your wisdom. Your playfulness and your purpose -- all around me. I try not to wonder or speculate about what you would have enjoyed here -- horses like your sisters, or water skiing like your dad. I find the most peace when i allow myself to just love it all -- and you, in the midst of it.
it is time to go do what I do here. be with the children of other mothers. this, too, makes me think of the moms who have always nurtured you where you are. it makes me deeply grateful for their care for you -- and it makes me more devoted to my life here at camp.
with all my love...
As i write this letter - sharing it with you - i hope you see what sustains and strengthens my heart each day -- loving the children that i have been entrusted to love. Ageless children of one divine Parent.
offered with Love,
Cate
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