How to Roast a Pumpkin and Make It Into Something

And make it into something.

Step 1: Cut the pumpkin in half.

If writing this essay is some sort of metaphoric analysis of my life, then this first step precisely illustrates part of my story in which I had three beautiful children and how life severed one of them directly down the middle. In real life, I had 12 years to grow this pumpkin. 12 years to water the seeds and nourish the ground and protect her from grasshoppers and fungus. When she (who ironically I used to call pumpkin head when she was a baby) became a teenager, chronic pain, depression, paralysis of her gut and intense anxiety severed her from the vine. Doctors, medication, therapy (which wasn’t very therapeutic), physical therapists and diagnoses that had no cure split her right down the middle.

Step 2: Scoop the seeds out of the gourd.

Remove the contents of the gut. Cut her median arcuate ligament in order to restore blood flow to the upper abdomen. Make a small incision in the pylorus in hopes that it will allow food to better empty out of the stomach into the small intestine. Splice off and remove the large intestine in hopes that its slow motility was the problem. Have tubes inserted into her abdomen. One so she can crush all her medications and insert them into her duodenum and one to drain fluids from her stomach.

Step 3: Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes.

Let 8 years of intense pain, nausea and feeding through IV nutrition melt her confidence, dignity and semblance of a healthy person.

Step 4: Blend the pulp of the fruit.

Send her to specialists all over the country who only focus on one part of the body. Provide consent for countless tests (many of which prove to be unnecessary and some which caused even more damage). Allow male doctors who have no training with teenage girls to gaslight her. Repeat the things those well-intentioned, but misleading doctors told her at home. “Don’t focus on the pain.” “Get out there and live your life.” Add some new advice that serves to pulse the blades throughout her entire psyche. “I am not going to allow you to ruin this family with all your crying and refusal to eat.” “You are too strong to let this beat you.” Send her to an inpatient center for eating disorders even though she doesn’t have one in the traditional sense of the word. Put pressure on her to keep her moaning and complaining to a minimum and to do her best to present like a healthy person.

Now you’ve created a soupy puree of pumpkin. But what NOW? What to do with the puree? Why destroy the pumpkin if you aren’t going to make it into something?

Why destroy the girl, God, if you aren’t going to turn her into...

I grew up in a family that shared the same pumpkin bread recipe. Every year someone was responsible for bringing the pumpkin bread to Thanksgiving and Christmas. Holiday dinners were not complete without it and nobody was allowed to mess with the ingredients. The year my sister substituted applesauce for vegetable oil in an attempt to make it healthy resulted in her being reassigned to green bean casserole for the next 3 years. So in this case, we are making our puree into Pumpkin Bread.

Step One: Add sugar, oil, and an egg.

Add sweetness and joy in life to keep her going. Take her to Europe and Disney. Find a camp that specializes in kids with chronic illnesses. Get her to the beach, her happy place, as much as possible. Pay $800.00 to have her medical supplies overnighted because the company lost their license in Florida and can no longer ship the heavy boxes. (At this point, I must recognize that this is a recipe you can only follow if you have medical insurance and some means. I recognize that not every pumpkin puree has these measures of support. If you do not, I pray God blesses you and our medical system in this country is reformed. I do not know how to make anything out of your puree without these ingredients. That is not to say it isn’t possible, but is rather a way of recognizing that it is much more tolerable and practical to make pumpkin bread if you have these ingredients.) The oil will add lubrication so that she does not fall apart when she is turned over and forced out of her safe space. The egg will ensure she has support groups, friendships and unconditional love from her family in order to keep her bound together.

Step Two: Slowly mix wet ingredients while adding small amounts of the flour, baking soda and baking powder mixture.

Without structure, she will remain a goopy mess. Get her out of bed, have her put clothes on, go to a class or run an errand. Expect her to come to the dinner table to talk with her family and keep her focused on her long-term goals. The key to this step in the recipe is to monitor the rate and technique one uses to mix in the starch. Slowly folding the dry ingredients into the batter is ideal so that the final product is not too dry or brittle. She can’t break. She has a long and challenging life ahead of her so she must be malleable and able to bounce back. Be careful not to mix the batter too long. If she has unrealistic expectations, her anxiety and the negative self-image voice in her head will become too loud and too strong for her to overcome. It will chew her up and leave her reeling for days.

Step Three: Add the spices.

Do not buy a premixed pumpkin spice blend. You do not need the same amount of cinnamon as cloves. If you give the same amount of attention to the doctor who wants her to start dripping minuscule amounts of liquid into her G-tube as the one who wants her to try a medication that you can only get from Mexico, you will just create confusion. Spices should enhance the flavor, not ruin the taste. Likewise, be discerning and careful with who you choose to be on your support team. Find a good chronic pain doctor; one who listens and believes her. Get a therapist who lives with a chronic medical condition herself. Hearing advice from someone who actually uses the same tools and strategies to live life is very different from hearing it from someone who doesn’t need them on a daily basis. Find a person to support you. I am so lucky to have a husband who not only cooks with me, he cooks when I can’t stand to be in the kitchen any longer. It may take a team of people. Correction, it always takes a team of people. Nobody can attempt this recipe single-handedly and I can’t think of any duo who can handle the task. You need someone to talk to her on the phone when she is mad at you because you had the mixer on for too long. You need someone to do crafts with her to get her mind off the pain. You need people who will visit her in the hospital now that countless doctor visits, numerous hospital stays and a dozen surgeries have your heart racing every time you see an ER. You need someone to listen when you can’t get the tears to stop flowing. You need friends who make you laugh when there isn’t much to laugh at. You need people who smile when they see her because they missed her and you need people who need and value her friendship. As a young adult, you the baker (you the parent) can’t be all the things she needs to thrive. Find the right spices and add just the right amount.

Step Four: Bake at 350 degrees for one hour.

Unlike when I make my mother’s pumpkin bread, I do not know how my daughter will turn out. I hope she will have a crisp crust on top that protects her from further trauma. I hope her insides will be warm and tender. I hope she has just the right amount of spice that makes her motivated to create the life she dreams about. I hope she pops out of her sizzling pan in one piece. As I wait by the oven, watching the timer countdown, it is impossible not to second guess how well we followed the recipe. Did we scoop too much or not enough out of her? Did we get stuck blending for too many years? Was my mixer broken or was my oven too hot? We will not know until she emerges from the oven. I hope she emerges from the oven one day. I hope we don’t watch her burn to a crisp or spontaneously combust. I have taken the metaphor as far as I can. This is where I wait and watch and listen and support and hope that she turns into...