What's in a Name Anyway?

I've probably covered this first part already, but I don't care because I feel like writing about it. That's how it goes here, y'know?

Miranda didn't have a name for three years, not until the fall of 1995 when I decided she really ought to have a proper name. Because, you know, imaginary ghost babies should have names. It was some night in September. Dan, Candy, and I were at the Big E. She was extremely pregnant, so much so that she went into labor pains while we were there. An ambulance was called, and she was taken to Baystate. Dan and I followed at high speed soon after. It turned out to be false labor, but I still ended up cooling my heels in the waiting area for a few hours in the wee hours of the night. And my mind turned to "the baby", and it struck me that she really deserved to have a name. I found a piece of paper and I started brainstorming names that I really liked, names that I believed Erin would have liked, and played around with several combinations before narrowing it down to a short list of my favorite names, and then deciding on Miranda. The double middle name thing happened because I couldn't decide between two, so I made it Miranda Jane Kristen. Jane because I like it; Kristen because it's my sister's middle name.

Ally and Evie named themselves. They appeared to me in a dream several years ago, already named such. I'm guessing those names are short for Allison and Evelyn, but I don't have all the information there. Given what I've come to believe about the twins, I decided that those names have to remain cannonical.

Nova, the hypothetical "ghost of Christmas yet to come" (so to speak), came about because my thoughts frequently travel to this girl who may yet come to exist, and I have to call her something. And Nova works, if only because it's fairly unlikely that I'll name the actual girl that. And so she remains the idea.

I've been thinking about names lately. One thing that I firmly believe in, and will not be swayed away from, is that she needs to have a good name, and on top of that a name that is easily spelled ... by others. Last X-mas my sister was talking about how people frequently screw up her last name on things (it's our same last name; she retained it when she married). So I replied, "I know what you mean. Try having two names like that."

I like my name, yes, but there is a degree of difficulty in having a first and last name that no one -- and I mean, no one -- can ever manage to spell correctly unless they've known me for approximately five years, and even then it's still dicey. The correct spelling of my first name is never higher than third on the list of options, if people have heard of it at all. I have had several occassions when after 'Sean' and 'Shawn' are rejected that I just get a blank stare, as if those were the only two possible guesses at that name. In elementary school, when everybody would pass around Valentines to everybody else, I used to get amazing mutant spelling attempts at my name. The last name is a little easier, but everyone -- EVERYONE -- wants to add that pesky 'a' to it. It's gotten to the point where when I apply for something in person or over the phone, I say my name and then automatically start to spell it for them. It just saves time.

So in naming my future child, all of this is foremost on my mind. It's going to be a 'classic' name, like Miranda, simple and easy to spell. No Jennifer with a G. No Amy with an ie. No Melissa with a y. She's already going to have the last name issue. There's no need to make it more difficult.

Right now Erica is the top contender.

Sarah is not far behind.

I also really like Emily.

I haven't even started on the middle name combination thing. Going with the double middle name, however, remains a strong possibility.