Nicknames
One thing I love about Substack: I am posting a poem about my children's nicknames. This is a poem that is so specific to my family that it doesn't make much sense to share it, and yet here we are đ.
When I was pregnant with my first we called her âGrain,â not knowing anything other than her size when we named her. She remained Grain until she was born and then she was Doe, seeking streams of water the sweetest nickname we could find. When I was pregnant with my second, my first laid her little hands on my belly and said Mimi. We hadnât told her the name yet but when her sister was born in the yellow morning that was how Doe mispronounced her name and what we call her still. When I gave birth to my third, a little boy we called him âBuddyâ from the first not in the way a man might growl another man when they bump shoulders hard in a bar but in the way that he was our sweet buddy faithful round companion, babbling without words. When my fourth was born, Buddy couldnât enunciate his given name, and called him âSandalâ instead. âSandalâ traveled to âSand Dollarâ and âScritsâ became âSkrittermanâs Famous Pigâ and on and on, a trail of nicknames leading back to our beloved blonde baby. When my fifth was born, her name was so pretty but all we ever called her was âGooseâ because I used to chant, delirious with wakefulness âHi the goose! Hi the geese! Hi the goss!â Mimi looked at me in mock disgust: âWhat does that even mean?â When my last was born, another boy Goose couldnât say his whole name so she said one part of itââNitââand six years later thatâs still his name, not a pernicious egg that clings to the scalp but a hazel-eyed baby who began life by burrowing into my breast crying for milk, held to my heart.
The deep abiding love that wraps around the heart and brings forth merriment in many endearing names.
Iâll keep this forever !!!!!!