Pondering and prepping, I packed for my Saint Patrick’s Day weekend in Pownal, Vermont.
Anticipating reunion, I puzzled, Rebecca puzzled, and her children all puzzled over what to call me.
Just who the hey am I when I step off that plane? Who am I when I reach Meeting House Farm?
Just Joani, I had decided beforehand. Well, “biomom” for Rebecca also rang true.
Colleen, my daughter and Rebecca, my new found daughter, have magnetically clicked, thick as thieves. Talking and texting , parsing and plotting they have already devised short hand code for the “new normal.”
SM – Shared mom
SWB – Sister without baggage
SD – Shared dad
That’s all I am privy to, so far.
The usual labels and conventional titles do not capture who we are becoming for one another. Just yet.
Just before Christmas, I had my resurrection experience with Rebecca. Once upon s time, unbeknownst to her, ever so briefly, she was to me, baby girl Elizabeth.
What, what, what do I call her now?
“Long lost offspring” seemed to work. I did not raise her as I did Colleen.
But in our kinetic conversation, it became clearer who she is — my child. Carried in my belly and flesh of my flesh, deeply connected and woven together by DNA.
Yes, my beautiful child.
Rebecca texts Colleen the news of my evolving vocabulary. Typing “child” with thumbs on tiny letters, autocorrect, spells out “chips”.
Chips! What a great name for Rebecca’s three to call me, these two decide. As in “chip off the old block”? As an acronym possibly, I propose: Crazy, Hysterical, Peacock, Super/Shared mom??
Fun, yes. I try it on but it does not quite fit.
Before my arrival, Rebecca’s youngest, little Meir, blonde and pony tailed, asked his mom about me. But he struggled with just what to call me. “You know the NEW one,” he said.
Ah, “the new one”! I have entered into your lives as if from another world. Strange and foreign yet at the same time remarkably familiar.
That’s exactly how it feels.
“Familiar” is a family word, you know.
So call me: Nouvelle? Nueva? Just to fancy it up a bit. But better yet, what is Irish for “the new one”? This branch of the family tree did not know they were rooted in Celtic soil.
Google says “Nua”
Honestly simple and perfectly apt.
Together we are discovering this “nua world”.
These last three days, this Peacock and the Dragons packed as much as we possibly could into a weekend: bookstore, library, Irish Step classes, MASS MOCA, birthday party, heated pool and hot tub, Apples to Apples, Sunday church, and beer and tacos “al pastor”.
It was a trip of a trip with Matt and Rebecca, Bella, Jude, and Meir. Pasted already as collages into my Instagram scrapbook. Take a look here.