The Christian Mama's Guide to Having a Baby: Everything You Need to Know to Survive by Erin MacPherson

Author:Erin MacPherson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Women's Interests, Health & Fitness, Family & Relationships, Religion, Pregnancy & Childbirth, Christian Living
ISBN: 9780849964732
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2011-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

How I Named My Son

When I was pregnant with my son, I felt pretty overwhelmed with the naming decision. For years, I had liked the name Jack, and I had assumed that I would name my firstborn son Jack. Unfortunately, I got a bit antsy, and when my husband got me a Golden Retriever puppy about four years before I had kids, I named the puppy Jack. When I found out I was having a boy, I had the brilliant idea to start calling the dog Buddy so we could still name our son Jack. Pretty smart, right?

Wrong. Turns out Jack the dog had gotten pretty attached to his name. So when I walked into the kitchen and caught him with his front paws on the counter scavenging for food, he simply looked at me like I was crazy when I shouted, “No, Buddy! Get down!” Eventually, we gave up on the idea of changing our dog’s name and decided to find a different name for our yet-to-be-born and yet-to-be-attached-to-his-name son.

After that, my husband and I had quite a few “heated discussions” about our son’s name. The problem was that my husband gravitated towards hipster names like Rowan and Evan. I, on the other hand, liked common names with biblical meanings. I was gunning for names like Joseph, Luke, and Peter. We had a really hard time finding a name that met both of our requirements.

Of course, calling our son “baby boy” for months wasn’t an option, so while we haggled over real names, my husband and I started calling our son Cheeto (you know, after the cheesy chips that I was craving.) The name stuck and before long, everyone was calling our yet-to-be-born son Cheeto. There was a moment in time that I actually considered just forgetting about the baby naming pressure and calling the kid Cheeto. Mommy madness at it’s best. Fortunately, I got over that one and went back to the drawing board with my husband.

We still hadn’t reached a consensus when my due date (finally) arrived. In fact, when we were driving to the hospital at 4:00 on the morning that I was set to be induced, I scribbled out three names on a scrap of paper: Rowan, Evan, and Luke. I oh-so-nobly handed my husband the paper scrap and told him that after the baby was born, he could decide—hoping and praying that after he’d seen me go through labor and delivery he’d give me what I wanted and call the baby Luke.

But it was not to be. Sometime after my induction and before the contractions really kicked in, one of us came up with the name Josiah. We looked it up on the hospital Wi-Fi and found out that it means “the Lord saves.” My husband loved it because it was unique and hip. I loved it because it had biblical significance and could be shortened to my favorite common nickname, Joey. We had found a winner—just in the nick of time: Josiah Cameron.

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