Well, actually, please don’t call me Marjorie. But, should circumstances have been different, that might have been my name.
My name, given to me at birth by my biological mother, was Marjorie Ann.
When I opened the envelope and unfolded the piece of paper that was my original birth certificate, that was the first thing I saw. Marjorie Ann (and the last name) was at the top of the document. I was confused (and I was reading through very watery eyes!) and at first I thought this was my birth mother’s name. After I read a little further, I saw that her name was something else, and that Marjorie was me.
Whoa. That was weird. IS weird. Here is a piece of paper which has the TRUTH about me on it, and it seems altogether wrong. I’ve waited all this time to get this information, and now it’s freaking me out.
They told me that my birth mother was not required to name me. Evidently, if you were planning to surrender your child, the child could be called Baby Girl Whatever, and then your adoptive parents could give you your first and only name. Some of the time, though, the birth mothers did name their child, and that’s what happened to me.
So Marjorie it was – for just a short time, and then my parents switched to Mary Ellen, and the rest, as we all know, is history. I keep looking at the paper and reading it over and over. I even asked a couple of people to call me Marjorie so I could see how it sounded. It sounded wrong. I have nothing against the name Marjorie, but it’s not my name. I do hope the fact that she named me means she cared a little bit about me.
I guess the name falls into the same category as most of the rest of my childhood – my birth mother gave me life, and a little bit of a start, and then my parents took over from there.
Mary Ellen must be my name – it’s what my Mom used to yell to get me to come down for dinner. It’s what my Dad said when he wanted me to play the piano for him. It’s what my teachers called me, what the priest baptized me with, and what it says on both of my diplomas.
And – most importantly of all – it’s what my friends call me.
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