I found a name today, one picked out just for you. I wish I could have had more time. I wish I could have had the 9 months I spent with my others, looking at names, saying them out loud to make sure they sound just right. I only had a couple of hours, I’m sorry. We didn’t know we could change your name, we just didn’t know. So when the lawyer asked us what your new names were going to be, my heart leaped at the possibility. Really? I can pick?
So we did.
We scoured the Internet, looking up names that mean something. I wanted to give you just the right name. Something that means adopted, or God is gracious, or faithful. Because it’s been 8 years of prayers that got you here and I’m not about to just forget.
But it has to be perfect.
It’s only a middle name, but it means so much to me. I wasn’t there in the beginning, when names get handed out, but we’ll keep your first names. It’s already been woven into you, who you are. And it’s OK, because I love your names. It’s almost like I picked them out myself, right down to the spelling. I love how the spelling matches one of your sister’s, like it was meant to be.
It was hard picking out just the perfect one. How do I pick out a name in two hours? One of you wanted Belle, because she was a princess and the other wanted Michael Jordan because he’s all I hear about some days. But God! He is our hero! I want to find a God name! But two hours isn’t enough and it’s bedtime and the dishes and the lawyer are waiting.
I’m missing those 9 months something awful, as I have been lately anyway. This is just another reminder and how my heart aches to have known you when you were a baby. I could have kissed away your pain, I could have held you when you needed me. It hurts knowing you were scared and I wasn’t there to wrap my mommy arms around you and chase away the nightmares. I would have done that for you. I want to do that for you now, but you keep me at a distance, so far away from my arms that just want to love. You.
So I find two names and they aren’t so perfect and they aren’t even God names. They’re just plain and regular, not the unique ones I like picking out so much. But something happened when we finally bestowed your new names on you. My heart grew a little larger and the place that has your impression on it became a little bit more defined.
I almost felt it.
And you are happy with the regular ones. You say your new names over and over, feeling it on your tongue, letting it sink into your soul. I don’t think you know it’s real yet. And I say it with you and we talk about your names and how it’s exciting to be able to do something that kids rarely get to do–change their names.
As I sing to you in bed and tuck the covers around your sweet faces, I can still see the energy in your eyes, the first signs of life I’ve seen. (It’s been so dark around here lately). And I run your new names across my own lips and right then and there, all because I chose you a name, you become mine.