A nickname story…


I was in the emergency room approximately 15 months after my first miscarriage. I did not cry as hard as I did the first time but I was terribly disappointed and so glad that this time only three people knew I was pregnant. One of the worst things about miscarrying the first time was having to untell the good news.

I wonder how many first pregnancies get to see the sonogram that shows a flash of light pulsing. That flash of light is about all you can see but it means the baby’s heart is beating. The second pregnancy was viable! I was five weeks pregnant. 

Christopher’s first nickname was Bean from the time the little bean was first prayed over. I called him Bean even when the books said he was now the size of a grapefruit. When I had an ultrasound showing all the sprouted parts, I still called him Bean.

When Papa Bear and I finally agreed on the name Christopher, hours before my water broke, I still thought of him as Bean. When he was a ten pounder, he was still my little bean.  When I brought him home from the hospital I called him Bean.  I tried out a few other names. His name was Mr. Motion for the period of time that swaying him was the only thing that seemed to get him to stop crying. I had a song for the sway:

“Misssterrrr mooootionn, he likes to sway like the oooocean”.

His name always returned to some form of Bean. He was my little Bean burrito when he was swaddled. For a while, he was Munchkin Bean then he was Munch for short. Then I returned to Bean, Mr. Bean or Beano until…

His diapers started stinking!

He then became Stinky Bean. Stinky Bean turned into Stinga Bean and then there was no more Bean. I started calling him Stinga.

To this day, seven years later, he will answer to Stinga. The official nickname to not slip and call him in public, the name that only Papa Bear and my mom hear me say is Sting. Sometimes in slurping affection I call him Stinga muffin. "I love you Stinga muffin". 

Here's the thing... I won't publish the name "Sting" in any of The Christopher Chronicles. But I will revise the Christopherism I shared recently: 

"You're the prettiest mom I've ever had". I said, "Thanks Stingie." He says, "Except you don't have the hair I like." I said, "Humph." Then he said, "I just wish you had it like when I was a baby." I said, "Ok that's enough."