We’ve made the transition this week from ‘mama’ to ‘mummy’. It sounds so much more grown up somehow, but more deliberate too. A definite naming, almost an act of possession: you are mummy, and you are mine.
I am his, too, there is no doubt about it. He has transformed me, consumed me in the best way possible. I was always a little afraid, before he came along, that I would find the presence of my imagined child stifling. That I would no longer be able to be me, to have the time I thought I needed to myself, to do the things I thought I needed to do.
Turns out there was another me lurking somewhere deep inside, waiting to be awakened. This me has different priorities, different values. She’s not so different really, but different enough to deserve the name ‘mummy’. And she does not feel stifled, not at all.
When I wake in the morning and hear him turning our names over in his mouth, articulating the little family that marks his place in the world – ‘mummy, daddy, baby’ – my heart sings. I am his, and he is mine. Together there is little we cannot do.
M is for mummy.
Joining in with The Alphabet Photography Project over at PODcast.