Me at age 17: Oh, Jeremy…I like that one…Jacob, too!  Adeline is pretty for a girl, right?

Oh shut it.  Like you DIDN’T do that in between all those games of MASH.  Besides, it was less “I-want-to-have-a-kid” and more “naming-things-is-fun.”

Heh.

Anyway, when it was actually go-time, I started to feel the pressure.  My husband didn’t like some of them, and the rest no longer seemed PERFECT.  [Read: DON'T NAME BABY AFTER EX-BOYFRIENDS]  So I searched online. I bought books.  I made lists.  And, people, the names I was coming up with…?

I had somehow gotten it into my head that my son/daughter’s name would have to be UNIQUE and ORIGINAL and if I heard any prospective name in casual conversation, it’d be dramatically struken of my list:

Friend: Yeah, so then Sam–my brother–told me about this girl he met at the ba–…

Me: HOLD THE PHONE, sister.  Your slutty brother is named Samuel?!  GODDAMMIT.

(I’m not really such a great friend, it turns out.)

This?  This ridiculous behavior?  That’s why we end up with children named:

Shithead (Prononuced Sha-teed)

Orangejello (Pronounced Ohrannj-alloh)

and, of course, Apple.

Really.*

But I still couldn’t quite shake the PRESSURE of name-finding.  And it only seemed to increase toward the end of my pregnancy. My husband and I still hadn’t decided on a name, but the rest of the world was apparently tired of waiting.  WHO KNEW.  At work, I was getting inquiries constantly.  One conversation is a story I still tell today:

Her: SOOOOO?! What are you going to NAME him?!

Me: Oh…yeah.  [Smiling awkwardly.] Well, actually we’re not sure yet! I think we’re going to wait to meet him and then decide between a few.

Her: Oh.  Well I guess you can do that.

She guesses?

Her: Well, what are the options?

Me: [Dodging.]  Uhmm, to be honest, they kind of change every day.

Her: [Annoyed.] Well, let me tell you.  My niece just named her son Tyler.  And I really like that name SO much.  You can use that one.  Make sure you add it to your list.

I CAN USE IT?!

People, it was all I could do to lob my puffy, pregnant hand across her pompous, chubby cheek.

In the end, we selected a name after I gave birth.  And it all seemed perfect.  I almost didn’t even mind that my husband had more or less decided on this name months prior.

Almost.

__________

*Consult Malcom Gladwell for more on peculiar baby names. He’s got some interesting stuff to say on the matter.