Drum Roll, Please

I would like you all to meet my god-daughter, Kiki.


Let me tell you a little about her, aside from the obvious, which is that she is very beautiful.

Once upon a time her daddy moved to Seattle. He was a lovely boy and I met him at a time when I really needed to know a lovely boy. He became my best friend and we were pretty near inseparable for something like two years. But it is hard, it's been famously said, for a man and a woman to be friends (if they are both straight) and we were no exception. There wasn't a guy I dated during that period who didn't have issues with it. And now, upon consideration, I realize they were entitled. Because the fact was that I wasn't making particularly excellent choices then and I much preferred an evening of shooting pool or hanging out making dinner and playing guitars with Peter to just about anything else. Which, let's face it, doesn't give other relationships much of a shot.

But talking about relationships was the one thing Peter and I didn't do very well. (Sometimes I wouldn't even mention I was dating someone until I was done dating him and he, I think, did the
same thing). And really, both of us needed to be giving some serious attention to the possibility of love. So, one thing and another, we stopped hanging out. Which was sad but sorta inevitable.

I got married. I got pregnant and had The Child. We still saw Peter sometimes, at the wine shop where he worked. Then he got married. One Christmas Eve we saw Peter at mass and met his wife, the lovely Suzanne. For some years that Christmas Eve "hello" was the extent of the relationship.

Then, and this sounds silly but it is true, Facebook happened. I friended Peter. Then I friended Suzanne. Suzanne and I, in particular, started writing little messages to each other and it felt, in a virtual way, that not only was I becoming friends with her but that a friendship with Peter was being restored.

One Sunday we ran into them after Mass and they were in possession of a beautiful, tiny baby. A miracle baby. They had applied to adopt but didn't think their chances were that excellent because they were in their 40s and you know how people are about "older" people adopting (unless they are Madonna or Brad Pitt). Mostly, I think, Peter and Suzanne were just covering all the bases. Then they went on holiday. They came back to many phone messages saying there was a baby and could they meet with the birth mother. Which they did. And she liked them. And within 48 hours they were in possession of Kiki. (Katherine Rose, to be official).

I was invited to the hearing wherein Kiki became officially theirs. It felt like a sacrament. I almost genuflected before I sat on one of the courthouse benches. The little family was called before the judge to tell the story and pledge their commitment to their daughter. (Something those of us who birth a child aren't called to do and more's the pity if you ask me). And voila! Peter and Suzanne were officially parents.

I will tell you the truth. When I left the hearing I felt a little sad. It was a great honor to be included in the group who witnessed the event but it was also clear that Suzanne and Peter have a rich, full life with wonderful friends and neighbors. We have an equally full life. I felt the weight of all the stories between Peter and my "then" and our "now", with no clear way to fill the gap and find a way to play in each other's lives again. It made me sad to think that Facebook and Christmas Eve were to be the extent of our friendship.

Then, out of the blue it seemed, Suzanne sent a message asking if I'd consider being Kiki's godmother.

Consider it? Well, let me think about this for a - oh, hell yes. Official license to spoil that little dumpling? I'm in.

And, as I told Suzanne, in meant all in. Being someone's godmother doesn't mean standing at the font one Sunday, hands outstretched in blessing. It means pledging to God and Peter and Suzanne to be there for them and Kiki as she grows up. It means praying for her and loving her and spending time with her and listening to her. It means taking her out to buy a back pack before she starts school and buying her a corsage when she graduates middle school. It means going to her concerts and giving her Easter baskets and taking her to dinner to celebrate the occasions of her life. It means loving her and being a friend to her even when she is no longer possessed of chubby, edible toes. (I learned all this from The Child's godparents; good role models there, people).

Of course, having informed Suzanne of all that I waited to see if they still wanted me to do it. Saying "yes" to Kiki was to say "yes" to them. If I was going to be Kiki's godmother, they were pretty much going to be stuck with me and The Spouse and The Child. Apparently, they are fine with that.

Yesterday we met at the Corpus Christi Mass and then went to brunch, the start, I know, of many such "family" get-togethers. It was delightful.

Don't I just have the cutest god-baby in the world? Love. Her.