Before Eve was born, Morgan was an only child.
This may seem like a remarkably condescending and somewhat obvious statement to make about our two children, but Morgan was a full five years old before Eve hit the scene. Try as I might to disregard well-meant comments about "How will Morgan do" (said with a slight tilt of the head for effect), when Eve was born, all these people were all right. Morgan was, as one person put it, "dethroned".
Naturally.
By the time Morgan was a year old, she had so many pet names that she probably didn't know her given name.
Pumpkin.
Lover ducky.
Squish.
I even called her "Ging Ging" for a while; it was a pleading sound she made as an infant as she wailed for food.
A host of other names we had for her but I have since forgotten.
Now before Eve was born, Dan and I had the all important discussion about what to call Eve. Not what to name Eve. What to call her.
Allow me to expound a moment:
You name your child what you want to see on fancy embossed wedding invitations. "Louis"
You call them the name they'll keep if they're big sports stars. "Lunkhead"
You name them what you want them to be. "Felicity"
You call them what they turned out to be. "BamBam"
I've sufficiently explained. I'll continue...
As I held and fed newborn Eve, the Morgan I had known and loved became a bit ornery. In fact, when my mother came to visit and held the littlest one, Morgan threw a towel over my mother's head so she couldn't see Eve.
Some time after Eve was born (it's all a blur, but I'll say at 2 weeks old), I couldn't find Morgan. I wanted to yell after her, but I knew she needed gentleness, so I beckoned instead, "Where's my Morgan? I miss my Morgan."
A bashful Morgan materialized.
I put on my biggest smile, "Oh, it's my Morgan! Hooray! My Morgan is here."
Now you can call me exaggerative, but I swear that when I used that little two letter word "my" before Morgan's name, her heart settled. She regained her place of security. If I'm honest, every time I utter that possessive word it seals her sweet spirit a little closer to mine.
I still use it today. When she's hurt. When she's tired. I draw her close and remind her that she's mine.
My Morgan.
3 comments:
That's so cute. I also do that with Zachary. I call him My Zachary. He is the one having the most trouble with little Alyssa. He used to be the baby who wanted to be the big boy, but now he is the big boy and he doesn't always like it. I have also found that his squishy little face lights up when I use that two letter word-my-as well. No matter how much you think you are showing them you love them, they always seem to need just a little bit more. It's amazing how the love just keeps growing and there's always room for one more. I thought I loved them the day they were born, now there's an actual ache in my heart when I think of them. Being a mom will certainly never be boring!
Beth
You're a good momma, Seester. A very good momma indeed. :) Smooch.
Good to see you're back- hope you are enjoying the summer.
I distinctly remember hiding behind the floor-length drapes at the sliding doors, hoping someone would notice I was gone, miss me and come looking for me when my brother was born. (I was four and a half when he came along) I also remember people coming to the house with gifts for my mother or my brother and nothing for me, except for one teddy bear (that I still have!) and some doll house furniture from one friend of my parents.
You are so careful and thoughtful to put *your* Morgan first, I know she feels special when you remember her especially!
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