Baby Ginger is 1: A fresh start for an old soul

The Stork Story, (an excerpt)

You know the stork brings babies,
But did you also know
He comes and gets the older folks
When it's their time to go?...

Their memories are all removed
And they're shrunk down, and then
The stork flies them back down to earth
As newborn babes again.

~ Shel Silverstein

A few months ago, my brother Mark, shared with me, a conversation between he and his 4 year old daughter Ava;


Mark: "Do you remember Grandma Ginger?"

Ava: "I remember that she died, and now she is a little baby."

Even now, I can't type this story without tears. The thought that my mother's soul is behind my beautiful baby's eyes is...comforting. When I look at her, or say her name, or hear someone else say her name, it heals me. My heart is mending. It's not broken anymore. It's just forever scarred.

When I found out that baby # 4 was on the way, I was...surprised. I spent nine months telling myself that "I am going to have FOUR kids. FOUR. KIDS!" It made me chuckle really, at the thought of how in over my head I was about to be. But I have faith in God and the universe and I was not scared. And now, as we celebrate her first birthday, I can't believe I ever considered our family complete without her.

We have a habit of going right down to the wire choosing the perfect name for our children (having had four kids I can actually use the word "habit"). It's nerve wracking. A name will inevitably evoke something in others when they hear it. We also have a habit of honoring family names. Each of my children share at least one name with a loved one. So for at least one special someone, it evokes love and honor.

Ginger Jayne is a beautiful collaboration of my late mother, and Darren's mother. Once we found out that we were having another girl, we decided that we were going to use my mother's given name, Virginia, as the baby's middle name and had no idea what the first name would be. Then one day I was searching through my mother's cookbooks looking for the her buckey ball recipe, the candies she notoriously made EVERY year for Christmas, millions of them. Ok, probably not millions, but it seemed like they took over our lives for a few months. Eating one (out of obligation) was like pulling out a gray hair; suddenly seven more appeared in it's in place. We all grew to loath them but that never stopped her from painstakingly making them "for us". So it only makes sense that I have to continue this tradition in her honor. And I vow to do so until my children grow to loath them too and hope that one of them will do the same for their family someday, in my honor. What better way for a loved one to live on than through millions of nauseatingly sweet, chocolate covered peanut butter balls?

Anyway, while looking for this recipe, I found this one page of a journal entry from over 20 years ago. It was the very first page of my mother's new journaling venture (no doubt, a homework assignment from her therapist) and she was just introducing herself to...herself:

"I'll use my real name-my only name: Ginger. That would have been fine enough as an identity. Why they formalized the name, I'll never know. I guess it was the proper thing to do. Hence, Virginia. So unbefitting. I hated it. No one ever used it except school teachers and others who knew me not. Always an embarrassment to say it. To hear it. I am Ginger. GINGER! Short, cute and good enough."

That's when Darren and I both agreed that we preferred Ginger too, rather than Virginia. That is also the moment when we both knew that Ginger might possibly make a great first name. Darren would like full credit for pushing for this idea. He's right, he was the first to mention it, and after doing so, he looked at me and said, mockingly, "I know you think finding this journal entry is a sign or something". He was right. And I knew he did too, but he would never admit it because it's silly or something.

I loved the sound of it, but I was a bit worried about that little bit of momentary heartache that I was getting every time I heard someone, including myself, say it out loud. How long would that last? Could I handle it if it never went away? Could other's handle it? I decided that I thought I could (it was an oddly pleasant heartache after all), and hoped her other loved ones could too. (And not only have they handled it, but they cherish it.) I decided all of this within about two minutes of reading that journal entry, and it only took a few more weeks to convince that little aching piece of my still healing heart that it would be ok. Her name is Ginger.

I can't say for sure if baby Ginger is in fact the beautiful little baby version of Grandma Ginger, but I can tell you, for certain, that she is VERY happy to be here with us. She is ear to ear smile almost ALL the time. When she opens her eyes in the morning, she is beaming even before
she has lifted her little head. And all one has to do is glance at her, and she will smile in reply. She is happy.

I know my mother's regrets, the ones that matter anyway, and not the ones she un-deservingly riddled herself with. She just wanted to be "good enough" to everyone. And in the end, she may have regretted being so hard on herself. This fresh start for an old soul will always know that she is good enough...and then some. She is Ginger Jayne, and "that would have been fine enough as an identity", especially to all of us who loved her namesake. But she is indeed, "and then some". This soul, by any other name, may not have been quite as sweet.

And if it's true (and I prefer to think that it is), that I am now the keeper of the keeper of my mother's soul, I intend to make sure that that smile never goes away. I will give that soul the happy, peaceful, childhood she always yearned for. I will praise her and smother her in hugs and kisses and love. I will teach her that her imperfections are inevitable, her obstacles are surmountable and her mistakes are forgivable.

Little Ginger is one year old. She is "short, cute, and good enough" (perfect actually). She is carrying on my mother's name in her honor, and carrying my mother's soul in her eyes. And when her name is spoken, it evokes very special memories, and a very bright future.