When choosing names for our children, Jordan and I choose carefully.
*************************************************
I'd never had to name anything more important than a turtle until I got pregnant. And a turtle you can name almost anything.
A lot of thought and consideration goes into our decision.
A name has the power to, in large part, shape ones personality.
Are you a John, Jonathan or Jon?
Jenn? Jen? Jenny? Jennifer? Or trending on Jenni? Ginnifer? Ginny?
Naming a person, a human person, --FOR LIFE-- is a tough role on us as parents because we're essentially branding our child from birth. I've had people tell me that I don't *seem* like and "Amber" to them... because "Amber" in their mind is reserved for bimbos and red headed strippers. A name akin to "Bambi," "Barbie" and "Cupcake." I'm not kidding. I've heard this generalization from more than one person.
I can't say I've known, personally, more than 2 other Ambers my entire life, so I'll save my judgements.
Does it make me feel any differently about my name though?
No.
I didn't feel suddenly sluttier or dumber for my namesake. I replied, "hmm..." and laughed. I was 17 and in high school, I couldn't have cared less what anyone thought of me. And hey, at least their name association was positive; they were after all favoring me a cut above the rest.
And I assumed they likely did not actually know too many strippers to compare.
*************************************************
I'd never had to name anything more important than a turtle until I got pregnant. And a turtle you can name almost anything.
The ever creative,
Turtle.
Mr. Turtle.
Leonardo.
Rafael.
Donatello.
Michelangelo.
Esther.
Magic Man.
...though it's a turtle, not a man at all.
This does not matter,
because it's a turtle.
It never has to put it's name on a resume, or present itself to other cruel judgmental turtles in school and say, "My name is Lucee. Like 'Lucy,' but with two e's instead of the 'y' at the end."
*************************************************
When Jordan and I found out we were pregnant with Harrison we didn't go name crazy. We did not each write out our individual favorites then veto each others worst picks dwindling the list down to one perfect, glorious, glimmering and well thought out boys name.
We felt his name would eventually come to us. It didn't seem something we had to stress about, we had nine months to figure it out.
We felt his name would eventually come to us. It didn't seem something we had to stress about, we had nine months to figure it out.
Sure, we made lists.
We crossed names of each others off.
As time went by we even crossed some of our own off.
Because as Harrison grew inside of me I began to feel his little spirit grow too. I felt his personality developing in every midnight kick and bladder punch. Jordan could feel him growing too, as I spent the nights tumbling sleeplessly in bed next to him as Harrison tumbled gleefully inside of me. In every dollar spent on swiss rolls and every inch my belly grew, Jordan began to know his son.
By the time he was born, we did not know who he was for sure; but we did know who he wasn't.
He wasn't a John. Or a Timothy.
He wasn't a Theodore as we'd once suspected he might be.
He wasn't a Theodore as we'd once suspected he might be.
He wasn't a Lincon or a Carter.
He was something though... and he was OURS.
The first time we held him and called him, 'Harrison' it was surreal. Here was this baby, this tiny human baby that was ours to raise and look after, to mold and shape into the spirited one year old he is today and the man he will one day become. Had we chosen correctly? Can you choose incorrectly?
I remember saying to Jordan in the hospital after we'd filled out the Birth Certificate, "Harrison Henry. Are we sure? Not Henry Harrison like the president?" Jordan assured me we had chosen correctly. Looking at my little guy now, bouncing around the yard and yelling "WOOF!" at dogs passing by, I know HARRISON is who he is and who he's becoming.
My little Hare, my Hare Bear, my hairy little poo poo butt.
*************************************************
So when you ask me what names Jordan and I are tossing around for our baby girl and I trust you enough to let you into my daughters world, do not scoff, do not laugh for minutes on end then ask to hear another. I am not peddling jokes.
Your remarks are hurtful.
...and quite honestly, a little rude.
This a a child we're talking about...
this is our child we're talking about.
These names, though you consider them to be strange, are names we have carefully thought out. Names we have said aloud with our hands pressed against my belly catching each little flutter of movement. Names we have created nicknames for and pictured on a pig tailed little girl as well as a rebellious pink haired teenager and a 30 year old woman who wants to be taken seriously.
You may not like them, but we do.
You are not the first person we have told (unless you were the first person we told) who has smiled through their teeth and asked hesitantly, "Ohhhh... what else are you thinking?" We see the quizzical look on your face, wondering where we ever came up with such a name, as you suggest "Elizabeth," "Samantha," "McKenzie" and other such 'typical girl names;' hoping perhaps that we have not heard these all too common names before and one of them will strike a chord and replace the list of names we have fallen so deeply in love with.
*************************************************
I do not know yet what her name will be.
We only have ideas, names we like.
I do know that in less than 2 months we will be blessed again with a sweet baby spirit. This time a girl. And she will need to be called something...
One day she will come to me and ask, "Mommy, where did my name come from?" and I will tell her the story of how her daddy and I searched high and low for a name that could dare describe the beauty, grace and intelligence standing before me calling me MOMMY.
I remember saying to Jordan in the hospital after we'd filled out the Birth Certificate, "Harrison Henry. Are we sure? Not Henry Harrison like the president?" Jordan assured me we had chosen correctly. Looking at my little guy now, bouncing around the yard and yelling "WOOF!" at dogs passing by, I know HARRISON is who he is and who he's becoming.
My little Hare, my Hare Bear, my hairy little poo poo butt.
*************************************************
So when you ask me what names Jordan and I are tossing around for our baby girl and I trust you enough to let you into my daughters world, do not scoff, do not laugh for minutes on end then ask to hear another. I am not peddling jokes.
Your remarks are hurtful.
...and quite honestly, a little rude.
This a a child we're talking about...
this is our child we're talking about.
These names, though you consider them to be strange, are names we have carefully thought out. Names we have said aloud with our hands pressed against my belly catching each little flutter of movement. Names we have created nicknames for and pictured on a pig tailed little girl as well as a rebellious pink haired teenager and a 30 year old woman who wants to be taken seriously.
You may not like them, but we do.
You are not the first person we have told (unless you were the first person we told) who has smiled through their teeth and asked hesitantly, "Ohhhh... what else are you thinking?" We see the quizzical look on your face, wondering where we ever came up with such a name, as you suggest "Elizabeth," "Samantha," "McKenzie" and other such 'typical girl names;' hoping perhaps that we have not heard these all too common names before and one of them will strike a chord and replace the list of names we have fallen so deeply in love with.
*************************************************
I do not know yet what her name will be.
We only have ideas, names we like.
I do know that in less than 2 months we will be blessed again with a sweet baby spirit. This time a girl. And she will need to be called something...
One day she will come to me and ask, "Mommy, where did my name come from?" and I will tell her the story of how her daddy and I searched high and low for a name that could dare describe the beauty, grace and intelligence standing before me calling me MOMMY.
