It shouldn’t be hard really, should it?
I mean, aside from having 9 months to think up a name, you must have vaguely thought about it beforehand. “If I had a baby girl I want to call her Emily”.
But it’s not that easy is it?
Not only have you got to run it by the other person who helped produce the child (although I do think the months of actual pregnancy should give the mother some special privileges, no?), but every Tom, Dick and Harry sticks their ore in too. “Na, I knew an Emily at school. Total. Bitch.”
I think husband and I are particularly inept at naming kids. Primarily because he floats a name, I fall in love with it and then he promptly goes off it. It took us weeks to name eldest, only finally shamed into it by a pissed-off looking doctors’ receptionist who just stared at me in disbelief when I had to admit I still hadn’t named him by our second appointment.
I also think 9 months is possibly just too much time – something will happen to make you go off it. Not enough syllables, too much alliteration, similar sounding to a distant cousin. Nine months is long enough to go off a dozen names which at the beginning, seemed perfectly acceptable.
Then we made the incredible mistake of running the longlist by our friends and family. That took our ‘longlist’, bypassed right past ‘shortlist’ and took us directly ‘back to drawing board’. Do not pass Go etc.
My previous health visitor wasn’t my favourite person on the planet – always had a pretty canny way of making me feel totally shit, even when we were sort of winning the battle, but she did expel one little nugget of wisdom.
“Whatever you name them, they’ll just become that name”. So even the Gertrudes and Gaylords of the universe will just eventually blend into the world, growing into their weird and wonderful names as they do their little faces.
Gaylord. Not bad. I’ll run it by the fella when he wakes up…