My name is Pamela Anne Kumpe, and initially, I was going to be named Anna Lynn, at least that’s what my parents planned until my birth.
Then the news of two babies, identical twins, changed everything. For five glorious minutes, I had a crib and a bedroom to myself—until my sister showed up, crying, and announcing her arrival into this world. So my twin’s name is Melody Lynne Johnson, and we each received a part of the original “Anna Lynn” for our middle names.
My mom couldn’t tell us apart, so those baby bracelets from the hospital were on our ankles until we outgrew them. And then, mom kept a supersized pink diaper pin on the shirt of the twin she called Pamela so that she wouldn’t mix us up. (Could it have been she pinned Melody and had already gotten us confused? We’ll never know.)
Mom and Dad each adopted a twin during the night—so they could rest in intervals since we started as double trouble. When a cry from down the hallway soared through the shadows, Mom would nudge Dad—and Dad would nudge Mom. And each would say, “That’s your baby crying.”
Now I’m not sure how they knew the difference, unless of course, since Melody had the pretty name, she cried in tune. However, my name means honey—and I probably cried with a sweetness of love.
