When we decided to start a family, the world just wasn’t ready for us yet. Twice. So we lost our way for a while and when we found it, we hit that sweet spot in our relationship when it was so perfect. No planning, no scheduling, no timing. Just happiness. When we saw that sign of little life again, my heart refused to open. It was just too scared.
Month after month, it started to show signs of opening and letting in hope. Hope that this would work, hope that nothing would go wrong, hope that I would get to meet my little bean this time around.
As you know, one of the first things people assault you with when you are pregnant is your name of choice. I made lists, he made lists. I confess I couldn’t put my heart and soul into those first lists. They were superficial lists of names other people liked, names I liked as a child, names I saw here and there. I couldn’t really commit to naming someone I wasn’t sure to meet, my head told me. I think Brian knew, he stopped making lists and just started holding me and telling me it was going to be alright.
Somewhere around month 7 my heart was unlocked, almost all the way. So we made more lists. Mine apparently consisted of names of 1800 immigrants and his absolutely consisted of every girl I ever hated. There were a few that crossed both sides. So being married to an accountant we did the most idiotic sensible thing he could think of.
We each made a list and with some scoring system I just don’t care to remember due to its accountant laden terminology that had me picturing myself hammering him like a whack a mole game, determined that our top two choices were Madeline for me and Madison for him.
We had no solution as we wanted to call her Maddie no matter what. There were of course different middle names paired with each choice. There was no middle ground. We were warring on opposite sides of the fence. I didn’t really fight, just quietly stayed inside my head. I told everyone I wanted to meet my little girl first. But the truth is I NEEDED to meet her first. I couldn’t tie a name to her without holding her in my arms to make sure she was real.
Sometime during the 9th hour of labor, right after they told us she was in danger and right before they decided to take her out right then, I looked over and saw that stubborn sensible man of mine holding my hand with such a look of awe mixed with fear and not knowing what he was seeing at that moment. We can call her Madison, I said at the same instant he was saying, We can call her Madeline. Of course, I won. Madison Ingrid was born a half hour later. The first part for her daddy and the second for a part of my heart. And it was just perfect.