20,001 Baby NamesFebruary 6, 2010 at 1:46 pm | Posted in Bun | 11 Comments
In the Venn Diagram called “Names My Husband and I Like,” there’s his circle, my circle, and a veeeeeeeeery tiny smidgen of overlap. Microscopic.
With Lollipop (whose gender was a surprise), we agreed on one girl name and one boy name. That’s it. Luckily, she looked like the girl name we had picked. (Or else we were too tired to go back to the drawing board. Those first few days of newbornness are blurry.)
And I love her name. We gave it to her, but she has made it her own. It is who she is.
Similar story with Giggles. We knew he was a boy. We agreed on one name. Done. (Bonus: He’s even got a “q” in there somewhere. I mean, how many kids get to say that?)
And I love his name. We gave it to him, but he has made it his own. It is who he is.
So. Bun. In all likelihood, our last child. Our last child to name. The last name we will ever bestow on another person. Whoa.
All the other names we each love — because they belong to treasured family members, or because we’ve had them filed in our memory banks since childhood, or because of exceptional alliterative value — they will never be ours.
All other names. Never ours. No wonder we can’t decide.
Lucy in the Sky
I’m an only child. I’m female. In my head, I always imagined I’d have daughters. Plural. I even wore pink maternity pants to Bun’s ultrasound.
Wishful thinking? Not really. (The pants were super-comfy. Just so happened they were pink.)
And that day, when we discovered he was a “he” — and he was a healthy “he” — I was happy. Genuinely. Plus, I could breathe and laugh and truly cherish the moment. Since I was wearing comfy pants.
But I was also wistful. A little bit. I would never have daughters. Plural. I would never have a Natalie, Eleanor, Margaret, Elizabeth, Lucy. My names. Slowly, I’m letting them go.
“A” My Name is … Ajax?
Where does that leave Bun? Nameless. But not hopeless. We do have a short list, though we’ve tried every combination, permutation, and derivative. No dice. No mutually agreeable dice, that is.
This is why I recently dusted off 20,0001 Baby Names. And I hate this book. The very thought of picking my kid’s name from a laundry list makes my eye twitch. It’s a nicely alphabetized and etymologically complete list. I appreciate this. But still.
Shouldn’t the perfect name just come to you? In the shower, or in the carpool line, or while you’re indulging in some really decadent chocolate? Shouldn’t it, miracle of miracles, just appear in your brain?
OK, probably not. (I’ll indulge in some decadent chocolate just the same. I mean, you never know. Epiphany by dessert seems reasonable to me.) But just yet, we don’t know Bun’s name. I’ve only made it through the first 3,171 on the list.
Whatever we decide, however it comes to us, we’ll know. We’ll know when it’s right. And this meaningful, powerful, perfect name of our second son, our last child, I will love it.
Yes, I will love his name. We will give it to him, but he will make it his own. It will be, after all, who he is.