Filleul

n. – godson
Last year for the first time I was asked to be a godmother. I was deeply honoured. We were in New York for a visit when my friend told me the news of her pregnancy. I was so thrilled for her and her husband, a fellow Franco-American couple like us. We went out to dinner that night with my husband and hers who asked me if I thought I would be a good mother. I replied that I thought I would be a good mother even though I wasn’t sure if I would ever be a mother. I thought it was a strange question since his wife was the one who was pregnant, not me. He kept repeating the question until finally I understood through his slightly accented English that he was asking me if I would be the godmother!

I couldn’t wait to tell people. As soon as we got back to Paris I proudly told our friends that I was going to be a “marraine” or godmother. People were very excited for me. I was convinced that the baby was going to be a girl. I reminisced about my own godmother, a fascinating woman who was one of a few colonels in the army at the time and this was a while back. She was widowed twice and never had any children of her own. She had the discipline of someone in the army. When the Surgeon General issued the first warning about cigarette smoking, she quit a three pack a day habit cold turkey. She held herself ramrod straight, but at the same time was feminine, elegant and gracious. I adored her.

So I felt that she would be my role model to be the perfect godmother. She was the first person to take me to Disneyland and I would have sleep-overs at her house where we would talk about grown up things. It was a wonderful relationship, nurturing and non-judgmental. And this is the relationship I wanted with my goddaughter.

The results from the first sonogram were in. I was having a godson! So a few mental adjustments were made – I was no less thrilled, but it would just mean that I wouldn’t be giving him the little gold baby bracelet of mine that I had kept for all these years.

I did quite a bit of research into godparenting. From what I could find, godmother and godson are both one word and are not capitalized. Traditionally the godmother is supposed to ensure the spiritual education of the baby where the godfather or “parrain” is to ensure the financial security in case anything should happen to the parents. The mother’s brother is the godfather.

I followed the pregnancy closely with frequent emails from my friend as well as online research of what to expect at the different stages. When the baby was finally born, they called me and I cried. Into the world arrived seven plus pounds of pure perfection named Preston. And his godmother couldn’t have been prouder.

My first sight of him apart from photos was via Skype. I felt so close, but at the same time so far. I couldn’t wait for our trip to New York for the “Baptême” or Baptism. I did more research on that to understand if there was a difference between that and Christening, but the only nuance is that they used to use the word Christening since it was where the child was given his or her Christian name. It’s interesting because when my friend was telling my about names they had chosen, the girl’s name would have been the same as my maternal and my husband’s paternal grandmother. Instead, my godson’s first name is actually the maiden name of my friend, which I think is lovely and his middle name is coincidentally the same as my maternal grandfather, who sadly I never knew, and my beloved uncle who just recently passed on. So I felt a connection with all of that as well.

The ceremony was wonderful, the baby slept peacefully and we bonded during our all too brief visit. I held this precious two-month bundle of love and happiness until we finally had to make our way back to Paris.

Lucky me because two months later, I was back on a plane this time to act as nanny fill-in for three days. It was a delight to spend so much quality time with my little godson, enjoying the rhythm of an infant’s life – sleep, eat, change, play or maybe sleep, play, change, eat. I would watch his little face in repose, sleeping so soundly and then watch it come to life and his studious observation of me and his surroundings. And then there would be a smile, bright and wide and really very few tears. We got along swimmingly and I enjoyed every second.

It’s true that it’s work, no doubt about that. I guess I looked more tired than I thought at the end of it because when we went to the doctor for his four-month check-up, the doctor asked if I was the grandmother. Yikes! I’m 16 years older than my friend so I suppose theoretically, I could be, but still. I felt the doctor could have erred on the side of caution and asked if I was the aunt or even just a friend or maybe just asked who I was. I’m sure she was mortified – as she should be! I sympathized with little Preston after she gave him his shots. As the poor little guy cried briefly from the pain, I agreed with him that she was a mean doctor.

The next time I see my godson, he will be almost seven months old. I know the time will go quickly, but I can’t wait yet again to see how he’s changed and enjoy spending time with him. It’s true that children are gifts so by sharing their son with me by giving me the role of godmother, my friends have given me the greatest gift of all. For that I will always be touched and grateful.