What's in a Name

I find it difficult to call my child by his name. I like his name--very much--but somehow, it doesn't roll off the tongue. I end up calling him "Baby" or "Baby-Cake" or "Sweetie-pie" or "Sweetpea" most of the time, or even "Mister" or "Mister Baby." He's getting to an age where he really listens, and observes, and notices things. This has happened maybe in the last couple of weeks--the quality of his attention has shifted, if not the quantity--and I've guiltily made more of an effort to use his actual name, so that by the time he's talking, he isn't telling people "My name is Baby Cake."

The name I wanted to call a son (when I was having those miscarriages, mentioned in an earlier post) ended up becoming the middle name of our child--and I'm not sorry it worked out that way. As I said, I like his actual first name. And in a sense (though this may sound morbid) the middle name is in memory of those three babies who came before him. Both names are part of his story.

That's really what a name is, I suppose--a story.