Two weeks before my wedding, I was busy at the store stocking up on candles. I envisioned creating a cozy nest for my husband and me to enjoy after our honeymoon. I was so excited to wear my wedding band and couldn’t wait to call him my husband.
I have a tendency to set the scene during significant life moments, imagining how perfect everything will be. But on that bright September afternoon, when the leaves were just beginning to fall and the air smelled of fresh apples, I was jolted out of my daydream faster than I could drop a hundred bucks at my favorite candle shop.
In front of me stood a man with striking blue eyes and a charming Irish accent, chatting with the cashier while I placed my candles on the counter. As he fished for cash to pay for his latte-scented candles, I noticed he shared my last name—Bingham. I had never met anyone with that name who wasn’t family.
“Your last name is Bingham!? That’s mine too!” I exclaimed.
“Ah! Welcome to the family!” he replied, covering his ear as he turned to me—don’t forget that delightful Irish lilt.
“I’m actually not going to be a Bingham for much longer. I’m marrying a Smith in a few weeks.”
His expression changed instantly. He looked down, shook his head, and offered me his condolences as he helped carry my bags to my car.
I quickly flipped open my flip phone, almost breaking it in my haste, and jokingly told my fiancé that the name Smith was far too common, and maybe I should stick with Bingham.
Ultimately, tradition won out, and I changed my name to Smith when I walked down the aisle. It had always been my intention to adopt my husband’s last name, and that brief moment of considering otherwise quickly faded. Ever since, my ex-husband has continued to call me “Smith.”
Nearly 20 years later, with three kids and a divorce under my belt, he still does. After we separated, I briefly contemplated reclaiming my maiden name, but I realized I didn’t want to. When I was a Bingham, I felt like one, but now as a Smith, it feels right too.
My children’s friends refer to me as “Mrs. Smith,” not because I insist, but because that’s what they’ve always known. I actually love it. They understand I’m divorced, yet to them, sharing a last name with my children holds significant meaning. That was a crucial factor when I considered going back to Bingham two years ago. My kids are Smiths, and I want to align with that.
To be honest, the thought of dealing with all the paperwork to change my name back was overwhelming, especially with everything else on my plate. As I stood in my kitchen baking cookies instead of filling out forms, I realized it just didn’t matter enough to me.
It’s not too late for me to change my name, and I could still do it if I wanted to. However, I haven’t felt the need to. I’d rather share the same last name as my children than tackle a mountain of paperwork or correct everyone who would still assume my name was Smith.
In the end, it’s just a name. It doesn’t define me, and I’m perfectly content keeping my married name. Unless, of course, that charming Irish gentleman shows up at my door, proposes, and convinces me to change back to Bingham while presenting me with a bag of scented candles. That might give me a reason to reconsider.
If you’re looking for more insights on home insemination, check out this article on Intracervical Insemination. And for those interested in artificial insemination kits, Make a Mom provides excellent resources. Additionally, understanding IVF can be beneficial, as outlined in this Healthline article.
Summary:
The author reflects on her decision to retain her married name after divorce, emphasizing the emotional connections and practical reasons behind her choice. Despite briefly considering returning to her maiden name, she finds joy in sharing a last name with her children, valuing the bond it represents more than the hassle of changing it back.