They just left.
For the last fifteen minutes or so, Munchkin sat on my lap in the rocking chair. I held her to my chest, smelling the scent of shampoo, Spring and childhood in her curls. I felt her heart beating against my chest. I knew that heartbeat. I was the first to hear it. And yet, when I think of it, this is probably the first time that I’ve felt her heart beating against mine.
Those fifteen minutes were probably the longest stretch of time that I have ever held her. As a baby, once mobile, she was raring and ready to go. Being held still wasn’t really enjoyable for her or the person attempting to hold her. Throughout the years, she’s always been quick and busy. This time though, perhaps more than even during our visit in January, she just wanted to hug me. And sit with me. And be next to me. And spend special time with me.
It means the world to me.
And it means the world to my oldest son. As he stood at the window watching their car pull away, he started to cry. I told him that it was okay to be sad and asked him if he had words for what he was sad about. He then put on his Grumpy Voice and said that he didn’t want them to come over ever again. I asked if he was just feeling sad about them leaving. From behind a tearful, less grumpy voice, he said the just didn’t want them to leave when they came over next time. I asked if that meant he wanted them to stay forever and he said, “Yes.”
My heart broke. I feel the same.
It was a good visit. A very busy visit due to my performances. I wish we would have had more time to spend one-on-one with each of them but I’m also glad that they got to see me sing (even if they did attend the night when I had a cough stuck through all of my solos). I figure it will be very similar to D’s wedding in September; it will be a whirlwind of a weekend. It will be good but busy. Just like what I feel this weekend was for us.
I have many more stories. But right now, I think I just need to cry for a little while. My husband, being the amazing man that he is, is coming home from work early today to take care of supper and just let me have my sad moments. (By the way, combining end of a visit blues with the end of a performance blues makes for a very, very weepy me. Wow.) I know I’ll see them again in the near future… but my heart breaks every time a visit ends.
Gulp. I dont know how you manage this. But then again, I dont know how any of us manage this. I like to think sometimes that my closed adoption situation was easier but then I realize it is wasnt, or isnt, or that easier isnt every posssible in adoption.
Glad you had a good visit.
Hugs to you and your sons.
(And yeah, your oldest expressions reminded me of my own oldest sons expressions and confusion over his sister that is not a sister).
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Twitter: Upstatemamma
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Oh man!! I can only imagine. My heart feels for you though. I am curious as to how she took your death scene? Did it go well?
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One of the things I like to think about when I think of my son and his birthmom and their 40+weeks spent together are that he knows (even if he won’t remember – he knows it) the sound of her heartbeat, as he was nestled inside her womb. And she will always have that feeling of holding him close and protecting him for that same amount of time.
When I kiss his belly button (because he has the cutest, curly-cue innie) I think how he was once tied to her – relied on her for his only support until he met us.
Her heartbeat and yours, together, so close. It’s an image that is so powerfully emotional. You are so blessed to have that time with her!!! I am glad your visit went well.
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my heart aches to read this.
big hugs to all of you,
Cynthia
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Just *hugs*, Jenna. And lots and lots of love.
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I’ll never stop being amazed at your strength and maturity. You top me by far and I’m twice your age (at least);-)
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