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We Didn't Name Her Pearl

It's a girl, mom. We had a girl. my husband sniffled as he told his mom the good news. She replied Are you gonna call her Pearl? My mother-in-law is an educated woman with a wicked sense of humor. She knew it was the 61st anniversary of Pearl Harbor, so yeah: pretty funny.

I giggled at that and felt joyous...and also empty. As I was hooked up to monitors and watched the nurses wash and clean this new life, I wished that somehow, someway in the middle of all the celebrating and praise that goes on in Heaven, that my mom got the memo about the birth of her granddaughter.

But that's not what this is about.

We didn't name our daughter Pearl. Instead, we named her after an aunt who after her presence was a fact, was named, and died shortly after. Our kiddo's middle name is her grandmother's -- my mom. I like to think that's from whom her wisdom-beyond-her-years and discernment comes.

As I celebrate and weep and get teary over the person I see my kid become; and as I worry and wring my hands over screwing her up or being the "right" kind of mom, I also know there are people who are walking through the reality of grief of a child gone too soon. Like one of my daughter's namesakes.

There's part of me that feels the same emptiness I felt on my daughter's birth day.

I giggle and am joyous over her texts telling me this particular birthday is going AWESOME. But the giddiness and joyfulness is tempered.

I know there is a hole in the hearts of moms whose child won't see a super sweet sixteen or milestone birthdays like 30 or 40 or that their kid won't ever call them with a grandchild's birth announcement. That they won't have the chance to ask Are you gonna call her Pearl?

Don't get me wrong. I'm over the moon in joy over the gift we were given today and that I got picked to be my kiddo's mom. I realize it's a blessing to have her in my life, even as tomorrow isn't promised for me -- or her.

Happy Birthday, Babygirl.


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