Lately I’ve been grappling with baby names. For the life of me, I can’t seem to find a name that fits (and that hubby hasn’t vetoed). Honestly? I kind of hate naming babies. It’s torture for a perfectionist to choose something so permanent, not even knowing who the little person will be. Deep down I know it’s not that big of a deal. It is just a name. I’ve done it before, and it worked out well. We love DoodleBug’s name. Still, I’m struggling.
Family names? Mildred. Boyer. Lois. All too old-fashioned. I mean, I’m a traditional-kind-of-name girl, but those are just a little too…stuffy.
And then there are the names that past students have ruined forever. Amber. Alyssa. Natalie. Those names will forever belong to those girls…and not in a good way.
It’s a complex process for me.
The little therapist who lives in my head (Anybody else a member of this little club? I believe membership is free after you’ve been to actual therapy.) says that even if I found “THE” name, I still wouldn’t be able to commit. I suppose she’s right. Once we pick a name, it all becomes a little more real. Somehow, even with the baby paraphernalia blanketing the house and Baby Girl kicking inside my ever-growing stomach, I manage to live in denial about the change that is coming. My girlfriends with two kids tell me it’s a familiar feeling – you are so busy with life, the second pregnancy ninja-sneaks by you, until BAM! You’re holding a newborn in your arms and repeating the words “gentle, please” so often they have lost their meaning.
Am I ready for this to be real? I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, seeing as Baby Girl is doing this:
The reality is that avoiding naming her isn’t keeping her from existing. I so want her to exist, but I’m terrified at the same time. So, I’m gonna take a deep breath, accept that this is scary and new (and that’s okay), and pick a name. I can do this.
p.s. How hot are the sweatpants? I mean, really. My belly pics just keep getting sexier and sexier.