This is a post that I got an idea for from this gal and her idea bank of blogging topics. I’ve just recently discovered her and her blog on twitter, and she is highly entertaining (and obviously, helpful). I highly recommend checking out her site.

So, each of my four kids has a very different story of how they were named. I thought it would be fun to tell those stories….

Henry is the oldest. My first husband and I decided on his name shortly after we found out that we were having a boy. And yes, before we found out, we both had a list of boy AND girl names that we really liked and had ranked, and SEVERAL baby name books to thumb through ALL THE TIME. It was serious business. But once we found out that he was a boy, we scrapped the girl lists (obviously) and consolidated our boy list, adding to it, taking away from it. We finally decided on Henry, just because we really liked it and didn’t think that there would five Henrys in every one of his classes in school. His was the first (and last) name that we revealed to people. I found out that, as a pregnant woman set on my child’s name, I wasn’t so open to suggestions.

It took a while longer, but we also decided on his middle name (and did NOT tell anyone what it was). We also just really liked it, but it turned out to be a prominent family name, which was cool (as in, the middle name of my grandpa and uncle, for one thing). His name definitely fits him, and I’ve never second-guessed it. Plus, I love to hear him spell it.

Ivy’s is a totally different story. I was a single mom when I had her, and knew she was a girl. I, again, had a list of names that I loved, but being a Libra, was unable to decide on one before she was born. My mom and I did decide on her middle name, though. My grandma, mom, and I all have the same middle name, so I knew that this girl would have to have it, too. But it was more complicated then that. My first husband was gone, and I wanted to incorporate a maternal name from his family somehow. We ended up deciding on a hyphenated middle name, both a portion of his grandma’s first name and our middle name.

When she was born, I had my girl posse with me and she was born late at night. My mom and SILs were with me the next day, and we formed a sort of a baby-naming panel. There were, I believe, three top names, one of which that was quickly voted out (to my dismay). The other two names were in a very tight race for at least a couple of hours (if not longer). They were fiercely debated in the hospital room, between, first, the four-woman panel, then between the panel and every person who walked into the room or was run into by a member of the panel out in the hall (excluding me, of course. I was tied to my hospital bed). The baby girl was scrutinized. She was examined. She was called by both names and then judged on her reactions to them. FINALLY, we decided on her name: Ivy. Short and sweet and fitting. And handy, since her middle and last names are so.very.long.

Essie’s name was a little easier…sort of. T. and I are both a little stubborn. Just a little. Okay, A LOT stubborn. And we both have very strong opinions about things like baby names. We went round and round, rejecting each other’s suggestions over and over and over. Finally, with a few months to spare, I suggested Essie. And T. actually agreed! People ask me now where it came from, and I’m only slightly embarrassed to tell them that it’s the name of a nail polish company, and we really liked it. Her middle name has more meaning, and I think it goes perfectly with her first name. My paternal grandma’s first name is VernaBelle. The only one that I’ve ever met in my life, and probably the only one I’ll ever meet. I felt a strong connection to my grandma after my first husband died, because she had gone through almost the same thing….her first husband died in the service, and became a single mother to my uncle, who was very young at the time. She then got remarried and had three more boys (my dad and two uncles). So, I knew that she knew exactly what I was going through, and that it was possible to pick up my life and carry on after something so terrible happens to you. I wanted to honor her by giving our baby girl a middle name that came from her name, so we decided on Belle. And it is so stinking cute when you call her Essie Belle and she repeats “Belle” in a sweet, southern accent.

Baby Bean, again, is a different story. When T. and I started thinking about having another baby, we started thinking again about names, and disagreeing a lot. I don’t remember who’s idea it was, but we made a deal that if we had a girl, I would get to name her, and if we had a boy, T. could name him. The other person could  offer suggestions or their (friendly) opinions on names, but would get no veto power and the ultimate decision came from me or T. After a while, we had to make a couple of rules, because when we found out that we were pregnant and we were, in fact, having a boy, T. got a little drunk with power. He said a few times that I would find out the name when I gave birth. Um, REALLY? I don’t THINK so! So anyway, he agreed to tell me his top three or so picks when he had decided on them, and he finally did agree to tell me the name when he had decided on one. I’m not gonna lie…there was some tension. I said before that we are both stubborn, and I did NOT enjoy giving up all the naming power or the sick, sick joy he got from having all the power. My advice: do not give up the naming rights of your own baby! No, but really, it was hard but I have gotten used to the name he’s chosen (which is VERY personal and important to him, which does make me happy). More on that after Bean’s born and the name is revealed. Oh, and his middle name? That was a struggle. We couldn’t think of a name we liked (or that T. would commit to), so finally one night close to Christmas when we were driving home, we asked Henry what he thought the middle name should be. He immediately told us, and it worked–T. and I both liked it, and decided, there in the car, that that would be the middle name. What’s pretty funny is that Henry liked the name so much because it was the name of the imaginary elf that was apparently moving around his preschool classroom and causing ruckus.