musings after the pumpkin patch...

[FauxClaud]

because i always start out with this

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN:
Thursday, October 21, 2004



I just got back from Pumpkin picking with my two little ones and a very dear friend.

We had a lovely lunch in a sweet café, even though I told her that I was scared to bring my kids to such a nice place and we really should consider Friendlies instead, she insisted, childless and naive, that it would be fine and true to the laws of nature, I said it would be a disaster and my kids did the opposite and behaved perfectly! I can’t believe we got away with it!

Then we went to a real farm where the pumpkins are still on the vines. A perfect fall day, slightly overcast with a view of the fields and mountains awash with color. We trudged through the fields, over mounds, tripping over vines, stopping to check out sunflowers and different weeds, in search of the perfect pumpkin. Laughing at my young one who was consistently shocked and amazed every time he came across another broken rotten pumpkin, “Look! Nother one boken one!!..and nother one here!!” Then hiking back to the car with our orange treasures in tow.

Once we loaded up from one field, Yella and I sat on the open hatch back of my car and finished our coffee while my monsters ran back and forth to the apple trees picking and eating endless apples. They were amusing. They were cute. They were having a wonderful time. I know these are the days that childhood memories are made of.

All and all a very perfect and lovely fall day.

This is why I hate adoption.

There will be no memories of perfect pumpkin days with my oldest son. Yes, I am sure his parents are great and he has the proper days in his past, and if I am lucky, maybe someday I will get to see the pictures, but never will I feel his cold cheeks against mine after a day in the field. Never will I brush the dirt off his tiny hinee after he loses his footing over a “punkin too big”. Never will I be presented with the gift of a half chewed apple and truly be touched. These moments belong to someone else and my chances of being part are gone, gone, gone.

17 trips to the pumpkin patch

17 handmade Halloween costumes

17 over exited Christmas Eves

17 crack of dawn groggy Christmas mornings

17 Easter egg hunts

17 handmade mothers day gifts

17 birthday parties

17 times to teach to heirloom stuffing recipe for Thanksgiving

6205 kisses good night

678 boo-boos kissed

2,160 bed time stories

2,340 tickle fights

85 trips to the doctor

18,367 hugs

408 nights of interrupted sleep

68 pairs of shoes

12 back to school shopping trips and 12 first days of school

48 celebratory good report card dinners

468 instances of monsters under the bed

555,165 times to say “stop teasing your brother!” *

Did I know what I would really be missing? No, I didn’t then. But as I watched my children playing in the fields today something inside me hurt. I know what I am missing now. You just don’t know what motherhood is like until you live it and by the time I figured it out, I had already given up my first chance.

18, 615 smiles for me……..gone.

[adopteeme]

Nov. 7, 2007 at 7:22 AM

Your journal brought back alot of good memories for me..I used to work on a pick ur own pumpkin farm. When I read your 'numbers', I had to get up from the computer and walk away, and be in thoughts of my Mom for a few minutes.  I imagine my mom had those numbers floating thru her head and heart at times too.  But she refused to give into them (all alone) for 40 long years. She did her BEST to forget, and move on.......it must have been very difficult to shut those feelings off all those years, and then, be put back into the middle of them when I came back. 

Thanks for sharing this, I just wish none of us had to visit this hurt so often in adoption.

 

[JoesGirl]

Feb. 1, 2008 at 2:10 PM

I just wish none of us had to visit this hurt so often in adoption.

agree