Strange Regret

Two posts in one day? Don't expect it much.

Wiggly was born eight weeks ago today. Mommyhood is still sinking in--this understanding of responsibility over another life. (insert multiple cliches). 9 pounds and 11 ounces of pure love. This little boy, this light, was brought into my life faster than I could have imagined. I don't know that we really expected him to be conceived so quickly, so easily. Bubby says almost every night, he can't believe Wiggly is here and we get to keep him, like, forever (or for the length of his childhood).

Some may know, we changed his name at the last minute. Wiggly should have been something completely different. Sometimes I regret not using the name I had originally intended for him. For nearly 17 weeks, I walked around with my big baby belly and called him a name, and now he's living, breathing, smiling outside of me and I call him something different. Wiggly fits his name to the nth degree and we know the sentiment behind his name means the world to the family members he was named for. I, still, however, miss the other name. I fear I will never call another child that name, it's been tainted, used. Another human born from me could never carry that moniker because, in so many ways, it belongs to Wiggly. This boy who I know so intimately, from his hiccups and kicks to the rump that stayed wedged in the right side of my rib cage for three months, carries two names in my heart. I love the way the original name sounds, its seeming obscurity and opposing warm familiarity, it's softness and yet complete maleness. I miss calling him one but delight in calling him the other. I remember the look on Bubby's face when Wiggly was born and announced what he should be called. How could I argue with that?

My next boy, if I should have one, will be given another name. When someone else is pondering the use of Wiggly's original name, I find myself having a pang of regret and envy. I can't use it, but she can. Only a true name nerd would spend this much time worrying about things such as this. I think and ponder the naming of offspring far too much.

When he looks through some of the books he received from loved ones with the inscription written out to the original name, we'll have a funny story to tell him.

With the mild sadness over the loss of the original name, I'm glad we went with the one we did. I hope he understands why he has the name he does, and why it is so important. His namesakes are plentiful, some here some in Heaven. All guiding him and loving him. We hope this makes him proud.