I had a wonderful day today. Opening Day of deer hunting season is a almost a bigger holiday than Christmas around here! The hubby's family are a deer hunting family. The men folk little and big (and one niece) get up early to go kill Bambi and family, while the women folk cook all morning and gather at noon at the in-laws for the big Hunter's Lunch. The wives, kids, and now their kids all gather for the lunch too.
The hunters slowly trickle in around noon, showing off their trophies or sharing stories of the ones seen, not seen, the ones who got away. The Nebraska game was on then so the guys even got to enjoy a bit of the game before heading back out again.
I love the family I married into. We all get along wonderfully, we truly enjoy getting together. As I was sitting in the kitchen listening to my kids with their cousins today, telling stories of years gone by, I was overwhelmed with joy. It is so wonderful to see your children as adults being great friends. Then it hit me. Actually, it was more like being stabbed. If only...
If only ALL my children could have been there.
No matter the occasion, whenever all my kids are together, or all my grandkids. It's never complete.
That's what adoption does to a family. Tears it apart.
Another thing you don't realize you are giving up when you give up a child for adoption.
They don't tell you that you are already a family. Even if it's just the mother and infant, you are still a family. A family that should be honored and cherished, not torn apart. For even decades later, the pain of the loss of that child is like a knife stabbing you in what is left of your heart.