When my daughter was born I decided to name her after my oldest childhood friend. I picked the name out when I found out I was having a little girl-April after my friend, Kathryn after my grandmother. All of the daughters in my family are named either Mary or Kathryn (or in my sister's case, both) which is ironic since I am the only Catholic in my family and my sister Mary Kathryn is Jewish, but that's our own special Douglas County diversity I guess. I wanted to call my baby Katey, I liked spelling it a little different, I liked the cute name for my adorable baby girl and Katey she was.
When Katey was about five, she met the mother and sister of the girl she is named after; my friend April died when I was 19. I had chosen the name because I remembered April as a happy child, I wanted to name my daughter after someone I only had good memories of. My happiest childhood memories, some of my few memories of my parents when they were together, are of times spent with April's family. I hoped the name would bring good karma (or whatever) to my little girl. Although Katey was always called Katey, I still knew the significance of her name. She was a happy baby, and a seemingly happy little girl, with a beautiful smile and an artistic dreamy side.
Like most parents, I never wanted anything bad to happen to my child, I wanted to protect her from the pain and suffering of the world. I wanted her life to be perfect. It wasn't. When she was two and half, I had to explain why her daddy wasn't coming home, and Katey and I had to learn a new way to live as just the two of us. That night after she went to bed, I calmly went and laid out her clothes for the next day, because life goes on when you are a mom and have a child to take care of and one on the way. That winter her brother was born and now our two was three. I remember that first night home with my new baby, and my daughter, needing to feed him and make her dinner and wondering what I would do...My daughter was patient in a way many two year olds would not have been, she learned that two outnumber one and this new life was how we are.
When Katey was in preschool I picked her up one day and turned the tv on to the continuing coverage of 9/11. She asked about it, and I remember how frightened I was that I had brought my children into a world that was no longer safe. I felt it was the first bad thing I ever had to tell my daughter, I hoped it would be the worst.
It wasn't. Last spring I stumbled into the house trying to get control of my emotions after I found out about the death of Steeler Seaburn. My daughter was a freshman, she knew Steeler, she talked about him often. She had heard about him for years from me and went to school with him. I knew I needed to wake her up and tell her. I knew I needed to be the adult, I needed to be strong for her. I needed to find that place that had laid out her clothes after her dad left, that had assured her we were safe after planes crashed into buildings, that had recovered and stood up to Ed so I could see her grow up. I didn't find it. My daughter took care of me for a couple of days, reminding me to eat; asking me if I was okay, cleaning the house and telling me about my new niece. I saw a side of her I didn't know she had, a strength that made me proud, and also makes me realise how grown up she is.
When Katey moved from elementary to middle school she decided she wanted to be called her first name instead of Katey. Her friends and teachers call her April now, but to me she is still Katey. I'm stubborn, and I'm sure it annoys her. I'm fortunate that I feel like I have a good relationship with my amazing daughter, we laugh and joke like friends and I genuinely enjoy being around her. She confides in me, we share interests; and despite the difficulties of being a teenager (and yes, they are there) I am blessed with a good kid. Sometimes a dramatic and moody kid, but a good one who takes on more responsibility than most because I work long hours for little money-it's not an easy life being the child of a single mother. It hasn't been an easy thing to share your mother with grief over a child that wasn't hers, but Katey doesn't complain. Her brother and I steal the tv for sports, but Katey doesn't complain. She doesn't have the spending money other kids have, but Katey doesn't complain.
I'm more protective than I used to be, letting go and watching her grow up is harder than I expected. Putting her in a car with other kids, the idea of her driving a car, those are things that terrify me now. But I know she must grow into this person who she is....and that person is April. I need to start calling her by the name she chooses to go by, start recognizing that she is no longer the little girl with the bow in her hair. She is growing into a young woman, she is her own person and is free to make her own choices. I can't protect her from the pain of the world. Keeping her "little" doesn't keep her safe. Recognizing her strength prepares her to keep herself safe. And that, really, is the best I can do for my little girl. For my April.
