As soon as I learned the gender of my sons, I was flooded with thoughts about potential names. For my first son, choosing a name was easy: I named him Alex after my cherished grandfather who had passed away just a few years earlier. However, selecting a middle name proved to be more complicated. I considered my father’s father’s name, but my husband felt a strong connection to his own grandfather, who had played a significant role in his life.
In good faith, we shared our naming deliberations with family. It quickly became clear that everyone had an opinion—some shared their thoughts with passion, while others were more emotional. I understood their sentiments, but I was unprepared for how assertively certain family members would push for their preferred names.
Ultimately, we chose my husband’s grandfather’s name as the middle name. While we liked it, the decision was also influenced by pressure and guilt. This experience was my first glimpse into the way family members could project their strong views about parenting choices—from sleep patterns to dietary habits, everyone had something to say.
Over time, I learned to trust my instincts as a mother, but I made the same mistake again when it was time to name our second child—I involved family in the discussion once more. Why didn’t I heed the lessons learned?
This time, our focus wasn’t on honoring anyone who had passed. We aimed for a straightforward name without any bizarre twists—nothing like “Rocket” or “Sky.” Our shortlist included names like Max, Leo, and Oliver. We were particularly fond of Oliver, having enjoyed reading stories about “Oliver Twist” with our older son. It just felt right.
Despite our enthusiasm, when we shared the name with family, reactions varied widely. Some were indifferent, while others outright disliked it. In fact, one family member went so far as to plead, “Please don’t name him that.” I didn’t even want to delve into the reasoning behind their disapproval; I quickly excused myself, feeling overwhelmed, and found solace in the bathroom where I shed a few tears.
Looking back, it seems a bit dramatic. But at that moment, I was convinced Oliver was the right name for our son, and the negativity stung deeply. Plus, I was pregnant and emotional. That very night, my water broke, and I went into labor with little Oliver.
Although the naming discussion lingered in my mind during labor, it didn’t overshadow the experience. When our baby boy arrived, his adorable little features melted away the earlier stress.
When our older son came in to meet his new brother, he expected to hear a name. He had been part of the discussions, but I wasn’t sure how much he understood. When we told him we hadn’t finalized a name, he looked at us as if we were crazy. “His name is Oliver,” he declared with certainty.
That settled it, and we were thrilled to name him Oliver. Interestingly, our family members who had expressed discontent suddenly had nothing more to say. Once Oliver was here, the name was set, and there was no turning back.
I can’t entirely blame my family for their strong opinions. They could have been more open-minded, but we were the ones who initiated the name conversation. In hindsight, I realize that the choice of a name—like many parenting decisions—should be solely between me and my partner. After all, no one else’s opinion truly matters, especially when the name is simply that—a name.
If I could turn back time, I would keep my mouth shut about my children’s names. Not a single detail would escape my lips. It’s nobody else’s business but ours.
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In summary, sharing my children’s names before their arrival led to unnecessary pressure and opinions from family. While it’s natural for loved ones to have feelings about names, ultimately, the decision rests with the parents. Moving forward, I would keep such matters private to avoid unwelcome interference.