I never put much value into names. Mostly because my name is so common, often having two or three other people in a class with the same name. My name is very simple. It’s not fancy or romantic, nor the least bit unique as the meaning of my name implies; and that is OK, it works for me. It suits me.
Then, one day, a little boy looked at me and called me Momma.
My life changed, my identity changed, a part of me said finally that is my name, this is me.
Now that my son is almost 5 and he trying out different versions (Mom, Mommy, etc) of Momma it hurts my heart a little. Every cell screams out, that is not me! He is an empathetic little boy, which is a source of great pride, and knows I prefer Momma most of all. If I could with out taking away his creativity and need to explore these new possibilities of growing up I would make him never stop calling me Momma. That sweet little word is one of my greatest joys, and someday way to soon will only be a precious memory.