Names

     I've written several posts about my daughter, Morgan.  In case you haven't read any of them, I will give a quick preface to this post.  Since Morgan was about 15 months old, we have noticed little quirks and differences which make her stand out a bit from her peers.  It has been suggested by friends, family and a few specialists, as well as by our own parental intuition, that Morgan isn't exactly like other kids her age.  The Aspergers label has been thrown around, dismissed, and then brought up again many times in the last six years.  We have chosen not to have Morgan formally tested or diagnosed because, so far, none of these small quirks or behavioral differences have affected her academic or social achievements in a significant way, and we didn't want her to be burdened with a label for the rest her life and school career.  She has started to outgrow many of her more obvious quirks and tendencies.  But she still exhibits a few behaviors which noticeably set her apart from her peers.  Morgan began the third grade this year.  She has a marvelous teacher.  Mrs. Telford is one of those teachers who makes every child feel like they could grow up to be the President of the United States or fly a rocket to the moon.  I have talked with her about Morgan's strengths and weaknesses, and she is very aware of my concerns.  She has been a God send.  Thanks to the efforts of this remarkable educator, along with Morgan's persistent drive for perfectionism, Morgan has excelled in school this year.  She has made the "A Honor Roll" for the last three quarters and is on track to make it for the fourth quarter as well.  I couldn't be prouder as a parent.  The thing is, I have never worried about Morgan performing academically.  She is, as I mentioned, a perfectionist to the core.  She's the kind of kid who sits down and does her homework and piano practice without being asked or reminded.  She is usually the one reminding me that she needs to do extra studying online through various programs offered by the school.  No, I have never worried about Morgan doing well in school.

     The reason I stood over her bed last night, tears streaming down my face, and worry lines wrinkling my forehead was because a girl in her class called her weird.  It really doesn't seem like a big deal, I know.  Kids can be cruel, and weird is far from the cruelest word that could have been used.  What was hurtful; what caused my heart to break a little, was that this was said by one of the three friends Morgan plays with at recess.  Making friends hasn't always been easy for her.  She tends to be painfully shy until she really gets to know someone.  Often, by the time she finally warms up to people, they have already formed other groups of friends.  This year, she has formed friendships with three girls in her class whom she plays with and talks to on a daily basis.  I was delighted to hear that Morgan had found her niche in the third grade.  Yesterday, Morgan woke up with an unsettled stomach.  There were no signs of actual sickness, and I almost sent her to school, knowing that she tends to have a weak stomach, and remembering previous times when I had kept her home for what had turned out to be no more than "gas bubbles", as she calls them.  I almost sent her, but something made me pick up the phone and call her school instead. I informed the chipper woman on the other end that Morgan would be staying home.  As the day progressed, Morgan sat quietly reading, coloring, and snacking, with no apparent sign of sickness.  I had seen this pattern enough times in her to realize that the cause of the morning's stomach upset had been a) too much sugar (which I promptly ruled out because she hadn't even eaten breakfast that morning), or b)anxiety.  Sometimes Morgan's constantly working brain gets wound up so tightly that she can't sleep.  When she finally succumbs to sleep after hours of tossing and turning, she sleeps restlessly and often wakes up with a stomach ache.  I began listing off things in my mind that she might be anxious about- this was a very long list, as Morgan tends to worry about everything from what's for breakfast the next morning to what our family would do in the event of a solar flare.  I determined the field of possibilities was much too broad and decided to go straight to the source.  I asked Morgan how things had been going at school lately.  She didn't say much, but did mention that her Math Success Maker was getting a little tough now that she had reached a sixth grade level in the program.  She didn't seem overly distressed about it, as she often does, so I figured that wasn't the culprit.  I decided to let it go for the time being and hoped that in her own due time, she would confide in me.  She did so at an unexpected moment.  We were out enjoying ice cream as a family.  Out of nowhere, Morgan looked at me with a slight grimace and said, "Emma said that Brianna calls me weird whenever I'm not around."  That was all she said.  But as soon as she said it, my mother's intuition told me that that was the reason for the stomach ache that morning.  She hadn't wanted to go to school because one of her three friends was beginning to notice and point out that she was different, that she was weird.

     Hours later, ice cream consumed, prayers said, and Harry Potter read, Morgan slept fitfully in her bed as I stood in the middle of her room feeling like my heart would burst for her.  It wasn't that the incident which had occurred was so terrible.....ok, so a girl called her "weird".  It was more that I realized suddenly that this was only the beginning.  I glanced around her room at the walls bordered in butterflies and flowers, the bed lined with pink teddy bears and unicorns, The Little Mermaid piggy bank on the dresser, the pink Barbie convertible "parked" against the wall; it was every inch a little girl's room.  It was the room of a girl who still believed in fairy tales.  At that moment I wanted more than ever to shield her from the harsh and heartbreaking realities of life.  I wanted to stop time so that she could stay there, in her little girl's fairy tale.  Of course, I knew I couldn't, so I stood there and cried, willing all my love to form some sort of shield around her, even though I knew it to be impossible.  When Morgan was born, I experienced a new kind of love; the kind of love that every new parent experiences, I would imagine.  My world immediately shifted; she became it's axis.  My life instinctively began revolving around hers from the second her tiny fingers wrapped around my thumb.  I didn't realize at that moment that the love I felt would somehow grow stronger and deeper as years passed.  Morgan has become less dependent on me, and I now have two other little ones around which my world revolves as well.  But, somehow, standing there in Morgan's little girl room, in the glow of her pink flower lamp, my love expanded.  I knew that it was infinite.  I knew that I could never stop loving her.  I knew that if human love could take away pain, my love would surely wash her clean of any heartache.

     As I write this today, after a few hours of restless sleep, I think of my own mother, and I know that she loves me with that same kind of infinite love which both defies and defines humanity.  I wonder how many nights she stood over my bed, riddled with worries, her face stained with tears.  I wonder how many nights silent sobs shook her pillow on my behalf.  It is because of her love that I have made it through some of the most trying times in my life.  It is because of that same motherly love that Morgan will make it through her darkest times as well.  I have been called many names in my life, some much nastier than weird.  But the name I cherish above all others; the name which humbles me daily and gives me something magnificent to aspire to is mother.