So I renamed my baby a few times. So what? (update)

Jasper, Shai, Phineas and Nava.

What have I learned from all this? A lot actually.

For one, "Baby Name Remorse" or maybe we can just call it "changing a child's name" (because I'm not sure we really need to call it by anything other than what it is) isn't unheard of. At least 8% of parents admit that they regret the name they chose for various reasons. I now know too that it also isn't so odd to change a child's name after the first year of life (though certainly not recommended by experts as they claim that a child begins to recognize their name by 12 months of age and identify with it by 18 to 24 months of age). So it may not be surprising to learn that going through this whole process I have had the opportunity to hear from many other parents who have thought about or actually gone through the legal process of changing the name of their child whether that child was biological or adopted and whether the name change was inspired in the very early stages of the child's life (therefore changed before that child had time to identify with it) or whether the change was made after the first year of the child's life. Many parents have made the choice to give their child a name they thought better suited them or meant something more meaningful. Angelina Jolie renamed her adopted son Pax (who was originally Pham) when she adopted him at the age of three. And I personally met a mother at a community center I frequent who told me that she changed her daughter's name at the age of four. In fact, finding out about a name change for a child of four years old was just the tip of the "named over the age of 1 year" iceberg. I learned there are parents who will even change their child's name at the request of the child (or even wait a couple of years and let the kid name themselves). I first learned of this when some parents in a local park near my home told me their story of how their kids had decided on their own to change their names at the ripe old ages of 6 and 8 and how naturally it had all worked out for them. Though I wonder how willing those parents would have been to the changed names if the kids had picked something my older children would have likely requested like "Princess Diamond Star" or "Super Crocodile Boy" or dare I say..."Picabo Street". Moving on.

Baby renaming happens, it happens more than we think. I know this now and now so do you. But why do parents want to rename their kid(s)? Can we say without any reservations that we are "doing it for the child"? I think not. No matter how you cut it naming (renaming) a child before that child has any say in it (or cares) is absolutely a selfish act. You the parent(s) are doing the picking. You pick the name because you want it to be meaningful, or cultural or honoring a friend or family member or all of the above. Hell, some parents are just going for what they think is cool or unique.

All that said, do you wanna hear the honest to goodness truth about my renaming story? Why, for over a year, I embarrassed my family and gave my friends a good laugh by changing his name 4 times and consistently setting myself up with each name change for even more mockery and ridicule.

Here it is: It was really hard for me to name my last baby when I was subconsciously mourning not ever having another. I hadn't quite realized this, or maybe it was just that I hadn't admitted it to myself, but a visit with a good friend the other day brought this all to light. In a conversation regarding the silliness of my not being able to settle on a definite name I said in my innocent/embarrassed/making excuses type of a way "I just don't know what's wrong with me!?" *insert my uncomfortable laughter here*.

So she told me.

She said it plainly and with no judgment. I felt slightly stung by the sudden realization that if I kinda knew this, and she absolutely knew this, then most people must have known this about me as well the whole time. Still, as soon as she said it I felt better. A cloak of pretense had been lifted. For all my "reasons" and excuses for not settling on a name (and some were and still are valid and true for me) this was the bottom line. Knowing this, and admitting this (this grief of never being pregnant again and never birthing or naming another baby) was all I needed to let go of the guilt I associated with not doing what I "should have done". All of a sudden I didn't care anymore about not naming my baby a name that stuck. About what others might think of me for not settling to live with a name that we didn't love or feel had meaning. It was the clarity of what I had truly been hung up on all this time that released me from caring what others thought about it.

Now please don't confuse this with me wanting more kids, I don't. I am really truly done. Done like dinner, and I am the Hell out of Dodge. Dodge is so far back there if I sent it a postcard it wouldn't reach it, ever. I'm at the stage where I fantasize about the day all my kids will be able to buckle themselves into their car seats themselves. Themselves!! But I regress. The fact remains that I did love having babies once upon a time, and I loved the birthing process, the euphoria after the birth, the small person so completely dependent on me, the me that could be so dependent on others, the teeny tiny toes and new baby smell. And of course the naming. Working with your partner, and through your own individual lists of must have's, for that perfect name. The name that was chosen ever so carefully with our ancestors and our differing culture's in mind. A name with meaning that the child can ask about later and get a story out of. A name that identifies the person.


When faced with naming my last baby I really, REALLY, needed it to be perfect; because for the first time I was faced with the plain fact that it was absolutely the last time. I was never *ever* going to do this again, this was it. There wasn't a "yeah it's my last time (but maybe, who knows, I might change my mind)" anything about this. My partner and I were decided and we had taken the appropriate steps to ensure that we were done. But because this pregnancy was my fourth child and because it had been unplanned we really didn't have any cool/cultural/meaningful/unique names lined up. We had literally run out of names at this point! So for over a year I grieved and rejoiced at the same time about never having any more kids while I obsessed (obsessively) about the "right" name for this little guy (who of course didn't give a shit about his name, we could have called him "fourth" for all he cared). At 10 months old we decided to put the kibosh on the idiotic promise made to my (now ex) friend about never using the name "Finn" and we renamed "Angus" (Charlie/Griffith/Levi) to "Finnegan". Finn was our favorite name at a very early stage in the game (probably the fifth month of pregnancy) yet even after deciding once and for all on this name (yeah right!) I struggled with the question "but is this *the* name for my child?". For one it wasn't Hebrew. This is of huge importance to me as a way of honouring my heritage and my mother who never lived long enough to meet her grandchildren.

Still, even though "Finn" wasn't a Hebrew name it remained our favorite name. And, whether I risk mockery here or not, he IS a Finn! At 16 months old he has undoubtedly identified with that name. So here I sat with the realization of my own issues (plainly clear to me now) regarding this entire name changing business. And even more true to me at this point was that even in that realization my need to give him a Hebrew name with a special meaning that connected him to his heritage and my mother was still very real. I was even at the brink of giving Jasper a "real" Hebrew first name and using "Jasper" as his middle name because of how important this is to me at this point in my life when some thorough research and verification after verification assured me that it was in fact a Hebrew name (Yashphey) though maybe not a child's name but the name of a precious stone. With this I was able to settle my mind and conscience and leave his name the fuck alone. And I could just leave it all alone in the case of Finn. I could just settle. I could give him a Hebrew middle name, but who is ever known by their middle names unless they go by their middle names? My husband and I briefly considered changing Finn's first name to Kfir, a Hebrew name that means "Lion Cub" (hey, he IS a Leo after all *wink*) and making "Finnegan" his middle name (but going by it) however we decided the potential confusion in school was something we didn't care to deal with.
And then, as if by chance, I happened upon a children's show with the title "Phineas and Ferb".

Phineas? I'de never heard it. I thought I had looked up all the "Finn" names. But of course I didn't look up 'Ph' Finn (though I did branch out as far as "Fionn"). Could it be...Hebrew?

I googled.

Not only was it Hebrew, it meant "Oracle"! I googled some more just to be sure of it's meaning and origin. Yep, Hebrew. And as simple as that a Disney show gave me the name I needed to fulfill my full criteria (as well as that of my husbands) for a name. A name that encapsulated both the Hebrew origin and the name "Finn" (well..."Phin" actually).


Yes, ending the 'baby having' phase of my life was difficult. It implied an end of my fertility and youth. An end to a phase of my life that had taken over a huge part of my life. I think most of us can agree that leaving a chapter of your life behind can be hard even if you are ready to be done with it. Sometimes we don't deal well or perfectly with transition, sometimes we go a little nuts and change our kid's name 4 or 5 times, and that's ok. At least it is for me. And Phin doesn't give a shit anyways.

And I think Phin can at least be grateful that this much thought and effort was put into naming him. As funny and maybe even as embarrassing a story it is, at least I didn't use an app to name him.