Happy 2 months, my sweet girl. So, last post I provided your birth story. I thought I'd spend part of this post explaining how we arrived at your name. I apologize in advanced that it's not a great story.
Your dad was very non-committal with your name. I would throw dozens of different names his way, and he would shoot down every one. EVERY ONE. So, one night I made a list of 10 names and asked him to circle the ones he liked. Whitney was the last name I put on the list. I've always liked the name and once had a barbie doll named Whitney whose hair I was supposed to be able to curl with this plastic curling iron. Whatever, Matel, you big fat liar! I digress. Anyway, it was the only name he circled.
Whitney. There we had it. I liked it. Your dad liked it. Done deal.
Then, I started practicing introducing my TWO children. "Hi, this is Eli and Whitney." Hmmmm...Eli and Whitney. It sounds familiar. Eli ... and...Whitney...Eli...Whitney.
The inventor of the cotton gin.
I expressed my concern to your father. "What if people think we're these avid Eli Whitney fans? What if people think we have a historic museum dedicated to his prolific career (prolific used generously) in our basement?"
Your dad rolled his eyes and in his most laid back, lovable way said, "Who cares...that's the name of our daughter."
Our daughter...beautiful sigh.
So, do not fret, my lovely. You are in no way some personified love letter to Mr. Eli Whitney.
We settled on Elizabeth, or I should say your father conceded the name Elizabeth, because I wanted to name you after my favorite literary heroine, Elizabeth Bennet.
And there we are, Whitney Elizabeth.
A few days after you were born we had to take a quick trip back to the hospital to have some of your blood work redone. It made your father so happy to tote his newborn daughter out into the cold because the hospital messed up. So happy. While we were there, a lady asked how we had settled on Whitney. I looked at her with the most serious look and said, "My husband and I are HUGE Whitney Houston fans."
That's not true, either.
We don't have a secret tribute museum to Eli Whitney, and we are not members of any Whitney Houston fan clubs. (However, I did wear out my Bodyguard soundtrack by dancing around my room singing "I'm Every Woman".) What? No, I didn't. Who said that? yes I did.
You are not named after anybody (I mean, aside from your middle name). We just loved the name. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Aren't you glad you sat down for that story?
Moving on to our second month with you.
The most amazing thing happened this month..right at the beginning. You and I were up late one night gabbing about how you wouldn't go to sleep and how The Artist is a shoo-in for the Oscar and how TiVo really is better than DVR when you looked up at me and...SMILED. And then my heart melted all over the floor and I had to get out the Oxy clean. It was incredible. Best.smile.ever.
Since that fateful night, your smile has been dazzling audiences everywhere. It's just incredible.
Other highlights from this last month: you began cooing, you hate pepperoni (at least when I eat it), you and your swing are going steady, and you poop like no one's business.
You are lovely, my dear Scout. And I thank Jesus every day for your life.