What Shall We Name the Baby?

I was sitting here the other day pondering the names we give our children, and wondering what it is that drives us when faced with giving to a person, who maybe not even be here yet, or in some cases maybe not even in utero yet, the appellation by which said person will be known for the rest of his/her life. (Okay, can we agree that where I use he/his/him it will mean either sex and is in no way snubbing the femmes? Thank you)

So, back to naming the baby. Naming my own children was not too difficult. The first one was named after his father - yes, he became a Jr. on the moment of birth. But I was young and thought it was expected. I now know better. The second and third sons were named what they were named because I thought the names, first and middle, had a nice ring to them, although in the case of the second son, his middle name was a family name that could as easily been a regular name. Son number four has a first and middle name that I liked all by myself and would have named #two or #three except the last name I had at the time just didn't fit with #four's first and middle. The first and middle name of #five was a mutually-arrived at decision with #five's father. (Who was, BTW, also the father of #four.)

I happen to think that all of my sons have perfectly handsome names, and if any one of them wished to use any variation of their names, they would be equally mellifluous-sounding. Wise of me to think that while they were given those names, they at least had an option in the manner they chose to use them. To wit: First and Last; First, Middle, Last; First, Middle Initial, Last; First Initial, Middle, Last; First Initial, Middle Initial, oh, you know.

In my own case, I was given a first name, which came with a last name. NMI. I have always disliked my first name. Not hated it, exactly, but never thought it had any character or pizzazz. At one point, age 12ish, I desperately wanted my name to be Lisle. pronounced Lie-ull. No, I don't know why. Anyway, for a time I insisted my step-sister call me that, which she did but never without a snicker. But I'm stuck with the name I never really cared for, and I had no options. Until I was confirmed in the church when we got to pick a middle name. At the time, I was in the middle of an episode of religious zeal and having just seen the movie The Song of Bernadette, that's what I chose. The same people who gave me my mundane first name spent no time at all trying to talk me out of my choice and so I ended up with a middle name that offered no options once I came to my senses.

Of course, I, as many others of my age and location, wasted no time getting pregnant and married and being known as Mommy. I was still busy being Mommy when my first-to-get-married son presented me with a baby girl who would be calling me Grandmom. She was followed over the years by siblings and cousins, all 10 of whom call me Grandmom.

Now if we add to the unliked first name, the unwieldly middle name, Mommy and Grandmom, all the character names of all the roles I have played on stage, it occurs to me that it really doesn't much matter what name I was given.

I do recall one woman, upon being told what name I had selected for #five, shrieked loudly into the 'phone, "What the hell kind of a name is that!?" This from a woman who named her only son Guido.