This girl. Margot Jean. From the moment I knew she was coming, I knew her name would be Margot (like Fargo – the ‘t’ is silent – you would be surprised how many people get that wrong). Even before I knew she was a girl, she was Margot. Her middle name is Jean after Mike’s mom – she was Barbara Jean. We didn’t intend to call her by both names, but it has stuck. Margot Jean. We call her that, Eloise calls her that, even the kiddos at daycare call her that. It suits her.
For a long time, I thought we might be a one-child family. We had Eloise and that seemed to be enough. Then, we lost both of Mike’s parents – within six months of each other. To say that was hard – is still hard – would be an epic understatement. Through the sadness and anger and frustration, I realized that Eloise needed a sibling. There would, and will, come a day when we are no longer here. When that day comes, Eloise and Margot will have each other.
Margot was supposed to be a part of our family. She completes us. She gives all the smiles and is so sweet. She goes to bed early and wakes up early. She has strong opinions at her very young age and will share them – loudly. Seriously. She is the loudest baby ever – maybe the loudest human ever. I want to freeze time and enjoy her in all her chubby, squishy, noisy glory. Because, I know this will not last. I look forward to watching her grow and become a little girl, and then a big girl, and then a woman. But, I also know that those stages will come too quickly. So, I cuddle her a little too long at night and smell her baby smell and try to burn the memories into my brain.