I am officially a blogger! As a fellow of the Lake Michigan Writing Project, I will be blogging this summer.
About my name: Kimberly
“Mr. Rogalewski, please take a seat,” said the nurse in the maternity waiting room.
“Is my wife and baby okay? Are they alive?” asked my 21-year-old husband and father.
“No, no. Everything is fine. I just wanted to tell you that you are a father of twins.”
And that’s how my dad learned about me.
I am the bonus baby, which is a nice thought–something extra, positive, and unexpected–even free! For awhile, I was Baby B–blackened and blue–born second–eleven minutes to be exact, and those eleven minutes have been life-altering.
Baby A and Baby B. It turns out my parents had my name picked out–Kimberly Ann–but not one for a second baby girl. My mom’s friend was Carol, so how about Karol Ann and Kimberly Ann? Which for which though? The smaller to Kim, the larger to Karol. My sister says her name is a chunky farm girl’s name with fuller-rounder cheeks, as others have said. I like that I have the smaller, thinner name, Kim.
Some have asked, “How do you know your name is yours? Maybe your parents mistook you as infants.” Maybe they did. Maybe I am first and Karol. I am still the same—“a rose by any other name.”
Perceived birth order does count though. First or last or middle? Six years later another girl, Kristine Mary. I am the middle child–middle of the family. The peacemaker. The friend seeker. The first to date, the first to have a “job.” The first to marry. The first to be sick. The first to give birth. First, baby, and middle. All three are me.