Baby MY
Why did our new little “heart captain” become MYKOLAS?
When ten years ago we decided that our Do would be DOMINYKAS, I clearly remember the words of my grandmother—who now watches us from above on her little cloud—at that moment:
“Wow, what an old-fashioned name you’re giving the little one.”
Surprised, I raised my eyebrows, and she added:
“My grandfather’s name was Dominykas.”
Hearing that only strengthened my opinion about the name. I thought it’s always good to stay connected to your history and roots.
This time, when another little heart wasn’t yet fluttering beneath mine, my thoughts were already turning to expanding our family…
While spending the evening in Nida, in a cozy conversation with my husband, we joked that if we were lucky enough to have more children, let the new addition to our family be MYKOLAS.
Mykolas was Tomo’s grandfather. And though our acquaintance was short-lived—because those little clouds floating across the sky take with them the ones you wish you could spend more time with—when I close my eyes, I see Grandfather settled in his home chair.
A man of strong Samogitian character and a big kind heart.
Smiling subtly with his lips, but his eyes shining brightly with joy.
Especially when he saw his grandchildren, whom he affectionately called “little ones.”
In Tomo’s stories, Grandfather is alive.
He used to drive the “gazelle” (car).
And when Tomo got older, he sat him behind the wheel.
“We’d drive together through the village,” he’d say—neighbors would joke that soon I’d be able to drive a truck even without Grandfather.
The wheel seemed to grow to Tomo’s hands for life.
Grandfather Mykolas was a friend.
A teacher.
A fishing buddy, knowing the best spots around the village.
A mushroom hunter and a man with a very practical approach to life.
He patiently and sincerely passed his experience and knowledge into Tomo’s still small hands.
It left a deep mark on my husband’s memory and recollections.
In my own childhood memories, MYKOLAS also lives.
Uncle Mykolas.
He was our neighbor in the apartment above us.
Kind-hearted, good-looking, and always carrying candies in his pockets to treat us kids he met in the stairwell.
Over time, our families became friends.
Through a child’s eyes, they were the happiest neighbors, always full of laughter and joy.
Uncle Mykolas was nicknamed “Mykoliukas,” and my father called him a “buddy.”
But, oh… life can sometimes be unfair and cruel to such wonderful people.
Mykoliukas, the best friend of my father, also went to the cloud.
There were no more people in our close circle with this beautiful name left.
So, practically without discussion and inspired by lovely people we know, we had no doubt that this name would be perfect for our new little one.
Besides, I really wanted brotherly names, so when we considered “Dominykas and Mykolas,” we clapped our hands together:
“Brothers!”
And when the doctor asked while doing the ultrasound if we wanted to know who was in the belly, I smiled and said we already knew it would be a brother.
The doctor, surprised that someone could see such early details before her, looked at me, and I just smiled:
“We couldn’t name him Mykolas if he were a sister.”
From the moment we saw the two lines on the test, knowing there was a brother growing beneath my heart was so powerful that, timidly stroking my belly, I was already lovingly greeting MYKOLAS in my thoughts.
Today, he sleeps safely in our arms.
Mua,
V.
