The Power of Two

And so it goes for the "twin-laws"-the families' term for one another-who find themselves in an arranged marriage with an entire group of strangers. Extra money goes toward airline tickets between Chicago and Birmingham. Family vacations are spent at a suburban home 700 miles away. But for both the Rittenhouses and the Harringtons, the joy at seeing the girls together outweighs the challenges of reuniting them. They've developed a warm, respectful relationship. (Other twins in Segal's study haven't been so lucky. One twin's family cut off communication with the other twin's family two years ago. This, after the twins had been in contact for several years, visiting and reading each other Dr. Seuss stories via Webcam. The remaining twin, who is now 8, asks her dad, "Do you think I could see my twin one last time?" The father is optimistic that when the girls get a little older they can be in touch on their own terms.)

Despite the emotional stress on everyone, both Merediths say they feel complete now that they've found each other. Meredith Grace became more confident, her mother, Susan, says. She faced her fear of dogs because her twin had five of them, and got over her aversion to putting her face in water because her twin could. Meredith Ellen's blues disappeared. "I feel close to Sissy because she has been with me since the beginning and when we were put in orphanages I knew that it was sort of hard but I knew that I would find the missing piece in my heart. I found the missing piece," she wrote in her diary. The parents found themselves reoriented, too. "We have always felt that family bonds are not dependent upon genetic connection. It is the foundational belief of our family," Leigh Anne, a family therapist specializing in international adoption issues, wrote in an e-mail to a friend right after the Merediths met. "However, there is no denying that these girls share something beyond. It is amazing."

Their reunions at the airport have become a ritual. On a warm morning this past June, Meredith Grace was too nervous to eat. On her way to Chicago's Midway Airport, she clutched her stuffed dog, Scruffy, along with a Ziploc of bologna for when the hunger kicked in. She was wearing a navy T shirt and cargo pants, the same thing her sister would have on: outfits are coordinated weeks in advance. When Meredith Grace spotted her sister coming through security, she dashed into her arms. The clock ticked and ticked. Then they pulled back and gazed into each other's eyes, heads tilted, just like in the picture that brought them together. You almost wanted not to look, the way you'd avert your eyes from two people kissing in the street. Then they were two little girls again, one admiring the other's necklace, both jumping up and down and screaming "Yay! Sissy!" in unison. Taking off to get the luggage, they held hands. Meredith Grace was on the left, where she's been for years. Seeing them united, you understand why the two won't settle for talking on the phone, an experience Jim calls "pretty thin gruel."