Just Name the Baby, Already!

Hello-my-name isI want to say something here like, “naming a baby has always been fraught,” but really, has it? These days, you can bet that superfluous “y” in some kids’ names it is. Just take a look at this recent piece in the New York Times. Now, bear in mind, this is one of those style/fashion/trend pieces that takes an issue faced by a relatively small group of people, and extrapolates it to the rest of us. In this case, the relatively small group are upper middle class/urban/liberal/hipsters, and the issue is how to find that one, perfect baby name that will have all your friends and relatives amazed at your creativity and originality.

Have names ever really been original? I mean, unless you totally make up a name, like X (and I’m betting that’s been done, just as I’m sure there are copycat Apples after Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin named their daughter), there’s nothing really new (hence, creative spelling, which to me feels more like handing your child a lifelong spelling burden than handing yourself a gold star for originality).

I am not saying that I breezed through naming my boys, but one thing I wasn’t worried about was how much hipster-cred our name choices might have (and neither Daniel nor James broke any barriers). I wanted names we liked, that fit with my husband’s last name (not easy to do — it’s a lovely strong German name, but it was my feeling that if you stuck an au courant name like Milo or Zena onto it, this particular surname would pretty much spit it right back out.

I suppose it’s always been a challenge to hit on a baby name that sounds right to not one but two people, but the challenges have changed for many parents, because it’s less about what works for their family, answers tradition, matches the last name reasonably well, and pleases the ear —  it’s also about what everyone else is naming their babies.

As writer Alex Williams writes in the Times piece, called “The New Baby-Name Anxiety”:

What’s in a name? What isn’t, these days? Baby naming has become an industry — with paid consultants, books, Web sites brimming with trend data, and academic studies exploring correlations between baby names and future success. The once-simple task of coming up with a monogram for the baby blanket has evolved into a high-stakes exercise in personal “branding.”

Yikes — we’re creating brands for our kids now? I thought labeling was bad?

When my mom was born in 1942, she was named Gesua. (I know, right? It’s Italian; the feminine form of Gesu, which means Jesus. The kicker is she was born a week before Christmas, and her mother’s name is Santa, another actually really lovely Italian name that never really lived comfortably in America. At work, my grandma went by Sadie). It was not my grandmother’s choice, but my grandfather’s (Gesua was his mother’s name, and that’s what you did in families like theirs). My grandmother wanted to call her Carol*.

But my point is that my grandparents didn’t agonize; they followed their tradition, period. When my parents named my sister, me, and finally my brother they did a little bit of the “I just like this name” thing (my sister is Marie, at the time my young mom’s fave, and she was very particular about the fact that it wasn’t the Italian Maria, but the French version of Mary); a little bit of the tradition thing (my brother is named after my dad, Frank); and a little bit of “what do we call this girl?” thing, which is how my dad, after I was unnamed for a week, grabbed Denise from a book as being French (like Marie) and not as likely to be shortened (they’d rejected Nicole because my mom wrinkled her nose at me being called Nicky, not knowing all my high school friends would dub me Nisie).

My name is probably dying now — according to the time-suck Name Voyager (part of the Baby Name Wizard site), where you can plot a name on a graph over time, Denise peaked in the 50s, dipped in the 60s and 70s, and is barely represented now. I don’t think my parents thought about either the “trendiness” or the longevity of my name; I think they were mostly thinking about the hospital personnel breathing down their necks (“You should really give her a name”). I also am not convinced they said “Denise” out loud with “Schipani” or they’d realize that I might someday have to correct people who think my name is Denisha Penny). Inadvertently, though, they did me a bit of a favor; if you Google my name you get… me.

A final note: did you know that you can hire a consultant to help you name your child? I want in on that.

How did you choose your child’s name(s)?

*When my mother was 13, she and her parents moved from Brooklyn to Queens, where my mom would start high school where no one previously knew her. My grandmother told her, “just tell everyone your name is Carol,” and she’s been Carol ever since.