Years ago, when my husband and I first got the thrilling news we were expecting a baby, we agreed we didn’t want to know what we were having.
Despite the current trend of over-the-top gender reveal parties, to us, the gender reveal would happen when the doctor declared, “It’s a ___!”
For months, we brainstormed a list of names. Right away, we agreed on a great name for a baby boy. But a girl was tough. Nothing seemed right.
As the months went on and my belly grew, I became more convinced I was having a boy. So we didn’t really worry about a girl’s name.
Until the moment came and the doctor held up this beautiful, perfect, pink bundle and exclaimed, “It’s a GIRL!”
My first thought was one of pure joy and elation. My second thought was, “Uh-oh.”
Baby Girl Edwards (as she came to be called in the hospital) was overall healthy but had a bit of jaundice, so we got an extended stay in the hospital, thus buying us some time.
Nurses brought us baby name books and lists of suggestions of names they’d seen trending recently. None of them were The One.
Finally, it was the lady from the Social Security office who stopped by my hospital room and said sweetly but firmly, “You’re getting discharged in two hours. I need a name by then.” that really lit a fire under us.
We finally landed on the name “Coraline” -- after all, we wanted our girl to be brave, ready for adventure, and to always be willing to do what’s right, like the titular character in Neil Gaiman’s book. We’d call her “Cora” for short.
As it turns out, it was the perfect name for our girl. But it wasn’t until she was a toddler, playing with newly-made friends at the park, and another little voice called out to her, “Come play with me, Coraline!” that my heart nearly exploded.
All those months of ruminating and stressing and the final minutes of decision-making all paid off. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of hearing another child calling my girl by name, including her, connecting with her, extending an opportunity for friendship. It was music to my ears.
Our girl will be nine years old this Saturday. Now, in addition to the sweet sound of children calling out her name, I get the heartwarming experience of hearing the parents of her softball teammates cheering her name when she smacks the ball in a line drive to the outfield.
I think about that as we cheer for the kids on her team -- all the parents who worried and stressed over choosing the perfect name for their baby. Are they as full of joy at hearing others encourage their kid as I am?
As parents, we have so many fears. Are we making the right decisions? Are we spending enough time with our kids? Do they feel encouraged and loved? And it all begins with, “Are we choosing the right name?”
Six years ago, in a moment of pure serendipity, I found myself mere feet away from Neil Gaiman at a promotional event I was working on for his latest TV series. I seized the moment, walked up to him and, all in one breath, proceeded to bombard him with the story of naming my firstborn after his character. I thanked him for helping us find the perfect name for our
amazing kid.
When I was done, I thought he’d be alarmed. Instead, he gave me a huge hug. He understood the importance of finding the right name for the most important characters in our life stories.
This weekend, as we sing, “Happy birthday, dear Coraline,” I’ll think about the pressure I felt in coming up with the perfect name for that baby, and I’ll know that of all the decisions I’ve made as a parent, I’ve gotten at least one right.
