narrative of a name

Back in the early winter, when we found out that Daniel was a boy, I must admit that I cried. I wanted a girl, yes, but that wasn't the only thing that brought on the tears.

Naming boys has never been an easy thing for Blake and I. We've been settled on a couple of little girl names since before we were married, but our well of boy names that we both mutually loved was not only never very full, it was now, at number four, pretty much bone dry.

The day before the ultrasound, as all of our loved ones crossed their fingers with us that this time we'd see pink, I had asked my mom to start thinking of ideas for boy names, just in case the inevitable happened, since we had nothing. She was happy to do so, and when I called her the next day with our news of the blue variety, she had a list of about a dozen really awesome names for us to consider.

At the top of her list was Daniel. When she first mentioned it, I mentally tried to brush it off. It was a name I'd never really loved, and, as one that has long been in the Top 10 list for baby boys, was one that I worried would be too common, especially when paired with our last name. It did have its perks, though: it started with an initial that was unique in the family, it fit well alongside the names we'd given our other boys, and it was undoubtedly a very strong name.

I tried to more seriously consider the other names she'd suggested, but for some reason, and despite my initial misgivings, I couldn't let go of Daniel. It was as if it was what he was supposed to be called, and I didn't really have much choice in the matter. The more I gave in to that persistent idea, the more it stuck, and before too long there was no looking back. (And it didn't hurt that I love the hauntingly beautiful folk song "Danny Boy," which I've had running through my head nearly ever since.)

Blake eventually agreed that Daniel was the name, though I'm pretty sure that, thanks to how firm I was about the feelings I had about it, he, too, felt like he didn't have much choice in the matter.

And so we called him Daniel.

The name Forrest is an old and oft-used family name on Blake's side. It's one that with each baby we considered using as a first name, but that never felt right. It did, however, fit perfectly paired with Daniel as a middle name, and soon after we decided the first name (or it was decided for us, what have you), our baby became known to us as Daniel Forrest (and sometimes, for the sake of the song, Danny).

And it was perfect, not only because it felt right and fit well, but because having a name made having another boy somehow feel more doable. It helped confirm to me that it just wasn't time for us to have a little girl, and that, heaven help me, I'd manage fine raising four boys. Though I didn't think it'd be possible in the beginning, I'm as sweet on the name as I am on our sweet, sweet Danny Boy.

Sweet little sleeper.