In the end, the baby looked like his new name, throwing out months of deliberating on what to call him.
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You’re expecting a baby? Congratulations! It’s an amazing feeling until you realize you have to agree on a name. It’s not as easy as you think. I offer a few naming guidelines based on my personal experiences.
Most expectant parents will agree with me when I say one of the toughest decisions they make is naming their child or let me put that another way—agreeing on a name. This is because men and women can have different ideas of what a good name is.
About five years ago my wife and I started thinking of baby names and we quickly agreed on a girl’s name—Sierra. The boy’s name wasn’t so easy. My preferences ran towards traditional names or what friends called Biblical Names like Michael, David or Thomas. My better half preferred names like Adrien, Colby or Noah (Okay Noah is a biblical name).
Agreeing on a name was like Congress trying to agree on immigration reform or debt reduction. Neither liked what the other was offering and neither was giving in. We agreed on one thing if genetics holds, our child was going to be stubborn.
I’d suggest Cornelius whenever someone suggested a name that didn’t work for me. The name came to me while riding a bike tour of the Hudson Valley. Leaving Cornelius Vanderbilt’s estate I said to my wife, ‘”Did you know Native American Tribes believed if you name your child after someone prosperous, the child will be prosperous? So if we have a boy we should name him Cornelius.”
It wasn’t true but I trotted it out for years. My better half suggested names like Rene, Joaquin, or something similar guaranteeing my unborn son a wedgie-filled future, I’d counter with Cornelius (I have your back son). Cornelius took a beating on a trip to Puerto Rico when family members couldn’t pronounce it, but watching them try was worth the price of the plane ticket.
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After much discussion, we agreed on naming rules:
First—No Roman Numerals. I didn’t want Frank Jr much less Frank II. I never liked Roman Numerals, the only way I’d use one was if we strung them together, like the Super Bowl, (ex. Frank XLVII).
Second—We wanted to introduce a new name to the family tree. Meaning Jose (my dad), Hector, (her dad), Bob (my brother), Bobby (her brother), Robert (nephew), Lucas (nephew), Justin (nephew) and Chico (dog) were all off the table.
Sorry Chico
Third—We wanted a name that worked in English and Spanish. My wife is Puerto Rican and I’m Spanish and Puerto Rican. My last name Priegue pronounced PREEG in English and PRIE-EH-GEH in Spanish sounds ambiguous. A name emphasizing our ethnicity might help—if we could agree on one.
Fourth—Names of cities, states or continents, meaning Asia, Austin, Montgomery, or Tyler were not being considered. This came after someone suggested Brooklyn. “How about Staten Island, it covers his first and middle name (technically Brooklyn is a borough, but you get my point). This covered my response to anyone suggesting Brooklyn.
Waiting for a doctor’s appointment, my wife offered a compromise. We each pick 12 names and see how many matched. It was the best idea we had, of course, she didn’t stop at 12.
We matched four Cristian, Daniel, Gabriel and Matthew but it didn’t stop there. With new names being thrown into the mix daily, I took to social media. With tongue firmly in cheek, I posted on Facebook (twice) asking for friends and families for suggestions.
Since we’re runners, a friend suggested “Miles,” it became the first alternate. My favorite was Otto, easy to spell, and a suitable middle name for Cornelius. A cousin advised picking a name we’d feel comfortable shouting 50,000 times by the time he’s 18.
When it was time for the Baby Shower only Cristian and Daniel remained—apparently my wife’s co-workers took a vote. Where was I? They would be the baby’s first and middle names—we just didn’t know in what order. We agreed on waiting until after the baby is born.
Growing up, Danny was my best friend. He was the popular kid, who was good at sports, he picked the kids no one wanted picked teams and protected the weaker kids from bullies. As an adult, he coached baseball and soccer taking the kids the other coaches passed on. Sadly he was killed driving to work when a drunk driver crashed into the car he was riding in.
When my son was born, my wife turned to me and said, “You pick the name.” Looking back I’d love to say she used the Jedi Mind trick on me but I’d be lying. We went through two miscarriages and three failed IVF cycles, and so she had the hardest part through all of it.
Looking at our son in his mother’s arms, he looked like a Cristian.
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Photo: slgckgc/Flickr
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