During my fifth pregnancy, my husband and I wanted to know the s*x of our baby. I was desperate to know since I already had four sons and was hoping for that elusive daughter. But during the ultrasound, he baby was balled up tightly. It was impossible to tell.

So when my daughter entered the world, my husband and I were ecstatic. So were my parents, especially my mother. We named our daughter, Shannon.

We settled into family life with our new baby. But then it started right away. I kept calling my daughter, “Nicole.” The name just slipped out. It was the strangest thing. Even when I thought of Shannon, the name Nicole popped into my head.

“I think we were supposed to name the baby, Nicole,” I told my husband. “I keep calling her that name. I can’t seem to stop myself. I go to say the name, Shannon and instead Nicole comes out of my mouth. It’s so weird.”

“We named her the right name,” he replied. “We didn’t even have Nichole picked out as a name. Just stop calling her that.”

But still I repeated the name over and over to my daughter. I was sure we had given Shannon the wrong name. So when Shannon was two weeks old, my mother dropped by for a visit. She sat and rocked my baby.

“I just wish your grandmother knew you finally had a girl,” my mother said to me. “She knew how much you wanted a girl. Oh she would have been so happy for you.”

My grandmother had died a couple of years earlier. We all missed her. I would’ve loved to have told her about my daughter. But sadly, it was too late.

“Oh, by the way,” my mother said. “I left a baby gift on your kitchen counter.”

I went into the kitchen and grabbed the present. It had pictures of yellow ducks on the wrapping paper. I sat down by my mother to open it. “Who is it from?” I asked curious.

“That’s the funny thing. I’m not sure,” my mother said. “I was cleaning out my closet, and I found it. It must’ve gotten lost over the years.

I think it might have been from your grandmother and meant as a gift for one of your brother’s daughters. But they’re all older now. So I thought you might as well use it for your baby. Open it.” 
There wasn’t a card on the gift.

But when I unwrapped the box, a small card was laying on top of the tissue paper. I opened the envelope and pulled out the card.

To Baby Nicole, 
Grandmom, Cooper

My blood ran cold. Nicole. I stared at the word. Impossible. My brother’s daughters were named Kelly and Taylor. No one in our family was named Nicole. “Who is Nicole?” I asked my mother.

“I don’t know,” my mother said. “Your grandmother was always getting everyone’s names confused. She must’ve gotten the name wrong.”

I opened the tissue paper. Inside was a pretty little sundress. After the shock wore off, I could finally smile. Now I knew why the name Nicole had laid so heavy in my thoughts. My grandmother was letting me know that she knew I had a daughter.

Somehow she had connected with me through the name.

After that day, the name Nicole disappeared from my thoughts just as mysteriously as it had appeared. But I have kept the card as a memento of the moment.

My grandmother had managed to give me a gift from beyond. A gift of love.

Story Credit: Author, Tamera Lawrence|Pennsylvania.


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