The heat is officially on, my friends. Yes, the H is O. We need to get serious about picking out a name.
When we finally made it to the hospital to have The Baby Eventually Named Roy, we brought a notebook with one page full of potential names. Between contractions, we took turns crossing one off, eventually whittling the list down to three: Royal, Vincent and Sid. We figured that when he came out, we’d have a good idea of which one best fit him.
In the meantime, I checked my texts. A dear friend had given birth to a boy that very morning! Yay for the birthday brothers! His name? Vincent. Love it, of course. At least someone was on the ball.
We kept waiting, expecting the answer to appear magically. The longer we waited, the more pressure we felt. Naming someone is a really big deal. It’s often the first thing people learn about you—sometimes the only. And one has different preconceived notions about a person named Blaine than a person named River, or Zeb, or John. Not that I’m a fan of preconceived notions, but they do exist. Seems your name can, to some degree at least, affect your social life, your love life, your hire-ability and more. Picking out that one, defining lifelong identifier that we had total control over while also fumbling around with post-labor pain and breastfeeding and, oh, the impending task of leaving the hospital with a helpless baby for whom we were forever responsible… it was too much.
But I refused to leave without a name. Rather than attempt to squat and therefore have the hospital staff forcibly escort us from the building, we made a gut decision: Royal. It’s an old, farm guy name, and Clint and I both have old farm guy ancestors. Likely we’d just call him Roy, a simple one-syllable name that’s familiar, yet uncommon. Kind of like “Clint.” When paired with Thomas (his middle name, after my father), we had an optional RT in there. He could decide to use his full name when he was older, if it happened to suit him, or let it exist solely as a parental seriousness indicator. (When said sternly, “Royal Thomas Buckner” totally sounds as if you mean business.) Done.
He’s grown into it beautifully, as I imagine they all do. Roy is most definitely a Roy.
Now, on to his little sister. We have a few names we agree on in the hopper, and I’m hoping to have it locked down within hours after her birth—none of that annoying back-and-forth we had with the boy. My fellow Parents.com blogger Paula, of In Name Only, just posted some awesome help in figuring out some possible names for her—check it out if you want a little more background on where we’re headed. Nosy me, I’m wondering: How did you name your child(ren)? Still happy with your choice(s)? Have any suggestions for me?
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