Who is a Mother?

The celebration of Mother's Day and the recent online uproar over the NBC Mother's Day Contest's ill judged placement of adoptive moms in a category called, "Non-Moms" had me thinking about what exactly is a mother. The NBC blooper brought it to the center of topic on most of my adoption e-mail groups. It got NBC deluged with e-mails and calls from the highly Internet connected China adoption community within hours. Annoyed "Non-moms" all over the US shared that they had to take time away from their "Non-kids"to write scathing e-mails asking just who did NBC think was picking up after the kids, making their dinner, kissing away tears, putting them to bed - the maid? NBC did back down quickly and changed the category to adoptive moms,but still used it as a catch all including grandparents, stepparents, foster parents, single dads, an orphanage director etc. - all non-traditional mother roles. There was still the segregated flavor of being less than"real" mom if you didn't physically give birth.

So it still begs the question, "Who is a mother?" Many listed the things that moms do for their children, but those are also done by fathers, grandparents, aunts and uncles, step parents, foster parents, and friends. This is not to disparage the 8 million day-to-day things that mothers do for their children, usually un noted or remarked. I thought about my mom, and other women who have been surrogate moms to me, being a daughter, sister, friend and about becoming a mother by adoption myself, late in life.

Sometimes it's as simple as being sure there is one person in the world who will love you no matter what. As Miss Spider says, "For finding you mother,there's one certain test, you must look for the creature who loves you the best." It's being able to scream, "I hate you" to your mother and know she will still love you, feed you, kiss you good night, forgive you. And it's loving and understanding the angry teen who is yelling, "You don't understand, you stupid old BLEEP." It's about emotional connection and comfort, someone to kiss your boo-boos, even when those boo-boos are lost jobs, divorce or illness. It's the irrational state where you love your children so much that you want to kill them for doing something dangerous. It's that moment of heart stopping terror when they get off your radar. It's the 24/7 give and take as they grow, change and try to make their own order of the universe - and you try and remember all the baby love and kisses that once came your way. It's moments when you wonder, "Who are these strange short people and why are they in my house?" It's being annoyed that your children are distracting you - from writing about your children.

It's being the "real" mom of a child not yours by birth. It's trying to give your child a heritage that you don't share, to help them find their story. It's about trying to cushion their losses and comfort their grief - even when they don't want you to. It's also about loving children that have become lost or damaged. And loving mothers who aren't able to fully love or are like children themselves. And sometimes it's about knowing that love is not enough, that life can be full of complexity and shades of gray. And knowing you can't save them, no matter what you do. That giving them up may be the only way to save them. It's finding out from a doctor, late night phone call or knock on the door, that you will not see your child grow up - and going on living.

It's remembering all the families that you have made during your life and knowing one day you will not be the center of your child's universe. And hoping that with a little luck, you might happily be displaced by your grandchild. It's knowing that families grow, change, open and close, and there may be times when you will hope for a phone call or e-mail, and others when you want to kick your kids out the door and shout, "Get a life." It's knowing your family is messy and imperfect, but that life is not meant to be a sitcom. It's knowing that love is not bound by birth or blood or time, and that no matter what, you will always be a mother.

Happy belated Mothers' Day (the apostrophe is in the right place)