Polina finally said the word “mama” this evening, shortly before going to sleep. I have been working on it with her for several months, at least since the beginning of the year. She said “dada” early on. Actually, everything became “dada.” She pointed at objects and said, “dada.” Of course, when Pete came home, he loved to hear “dada.” When I asked her to say “mama,” she responded, “dada,” to which Pete would respond with a sardonic laugh.

“Mama” I said again.

“Dada.”

And the chuckling continued.

After several months of this, Polina began responding “yaya.” She never called me that, or anything for that matter, but when I asked her to say “mama,” she responded “yaya.”

“Yaya?!” I said, so many times. “Ya mama.” (Translation: “I’m mama.”)

“Yaya,” she said, with a smile, oh so many times.

In the last several weeks, she began saying “ma.” I noticed it when she was on the toilet. She has a book of photographs that she likes to peruse while she is on the potty. It contains pictures of Pete and me and members of our extended family. She pointed to Pete and said, “dada.” Then she pointed to a picture of me and said, “ma.” I was at once pleased and wistful at the thought that my little girl is growing up. She only called me “ma” on the toilet. Outside the bathroom, if I asked her to say “mama,” I was still “yaya.”

And so it continued until tonight, shortly before bed, when Polina said, “ma” followed by a pause, and then…. “ma.”

“Ma” she said again. Pause. “Ma.” And then she fell asleep.

Funny thing is that I’m more ready for that title now than earlier. I’ve only been called Julie or Julia my entire life. Never “sis” or “auntie” because I’m not either. I’m just Julie to my friends or Julia if you don’t know me. I got another name tonight, not just by matter of fact, but because I was actually called that, which I think is more important.

I carried my baby around and I thought of her as my baby, but I didn’t think of myself as a mama except in some third party sort of way. It probably has something to do with the huge distance I felt from my own mother growing up. She wasn’t a particularly loving mother and didn’t know how to show affection. Consequently, I thought of myself as a mother in fact only. I couldn’t get too close to it.

But tonight, I became a “mama” by my daughter’s choice, so to speak, and I’m more ready to accept that title now that I have almost two years under my belt. I feel more comfortable with the title, like a shoe that has been worn in, or a new job that you finally feel comfortable mastering.

I just hope I can live up to that title.

Originally written June 14, 2014.