I can say with my whole heart that naming a person is hard.
People repeatedly ask me if I have figured out a name for the little nugget that has taken up residence in my abdomen. At first, I rattled off a list of names that I did like. Over time, the list of names got shorter and shorter. I became more protective of the names. I didn’t particularly want to share the names with other people. Now, I can say that my list of ten (or more) names has been narrowed down to one. Or two.
Now, I’m 36 weeks pregnant and the size of a baby elephant.
Or that’s what it feels like.
People ask me if a have a name for the nugget that has taken up residence in my abdomen.
Like they hadn’t asked me the same question just a few weeks earlier.
I smile. Laugh. Shrug my shoulders.
I do have a name. I have said the name over and over for the last month and I like it more every time I hear it.
Want a hint?
It starts with the letter, C.
My mother heard it when she was checking someone in to the campground. She met the boy and asked how he felt about me using his name. He seemed pretty cool about it
which is good because I’m probably going to use it either way. I had names that I liked. They were all modern, ‘typical’ names that you would expect to hear in 2017. This name, however, isn’t one I have heard. Ever.
This name is unique, but not strange. It isn’t one you would find unless you were really looking for it. It isn’t in the top one or two thousand names. It only comes into play at the very end of the three thousands. If that doesn’t say ‘obscure’ then I don’t know what does.
So, what’s in a name?
How does one go about picking a name for their child?
First: You go through the name of every person you’ve ever dated, slept with or had a general ‘thing’ with and cross it off the list. You just don’t need that sort of negativity (or reminder) in your life.
Unless your exes happen to be unicorns and not complete assholes.
Second: You go through the name of every asshat that was in your primary school, high school, and university. Go on, cross them off the list.
The list is getting pretty narrow now, right?
Third: You go through the list of banned names and realise that calling your kid ‘Lucifer’ or ‘V8’ just isn’t going to happen. Points for creativity though.
Fourth: You finally come up with a few names you like. Suggest them to your ex. Suggest them to your mum. Have them (mostly) rejected.
Fifth: You start again.
Sixth: Realise that middle names are ‘important’. Get rid of any names that could produce rude initials.
Seventh: Accept the fact that your child is not going to have a middle name.
Eighth: Accept the fact that your child is not going to have a name. Period.
Feel the pressure yet?
Ninth: Realise that you do have a few favourites, but you really have no idea what you want to name your son.
Tenth: Accept the fact that your son is going to be (mostly) nameless until you see him for the first time.
Break out the chocolate milk. You deserve it.
People are surprised when I say that I don’t have a name for him yet. Some people have looked at me with absolute horror. As if I haven’t bonded with him because I haven’t done this one thing. Some people press me for the names that I’ve been thinking about. Some people shrug their shoulders and say that I’ll know what to call him as soon as I see him. Those are the best people.
There’s also the matter of the ex.
Contrary to what people may think, he didn’t just run off into the sunset and leave me all on my lonesome. He hasn’t been a total dick. He actually is trying. I do respect his opinion. You might call me old-fashioned, but I do want my son to have my ex’s last name.
So, have I chosen a name?
Yes and no.
But I’m keeping it my little secret.