The end is near. (Or, rather, the beginning!)
It could be tomorrow that we finally meet our baby boy – or it could still be a month away. Now that we’ve made it this far and our midwives have repeatedly assured us that he is healthy, the question on both of our minds all day is, “what do you look like, Little Dude??” (Honestly, we’d totally settle for his hair color.)
However, the query that most often comes from those we encounter over the course of our day is a different one:
“OMG a BABY! What’s his name??”
Call me crazy – or maybe it’s just because I’m a Jew – but I’m amazed by how offended some of these folks seem to be when we refuse to divulge. Wifey and I have both always known that we’d follow the Jewish tradition of naming our children for those no longer with us, as well as the superstition about not sharing their names until birth. But you’d be shocked by how many people over the past few months have actually said “Oh come on, you can tell me. You don’t even know me! What do I care?”
My point exactly – why do you care so much?
It’s one thing for those close to us to inquire – in fact, I understand my parents’ frustration when we wouldn’t even let them play the guessing game with us. (I’m sorry guys, I love you; but I just don’t trust myself to keep a straight face once we venture down that road.)
But as far as strangers go, old school superstition aside, there’s a practical element in play here as well. You see, everybody’s got an opinion.
All of my sources concur. Apparently, when expecting parents do proudly proclaim their child’s name before birth, the following type of conversation becomes quite common:
“His name is Abraham, isn’t that exciting??”
“No way man, fuck that name, I’ve hated it ever since that shmuck Abe dumped me in high school.”
“Well, our backup name is Isaac…”
“Eww, that’s my Dad’s name forget that one, too.”
Now imagine the same scenario, with a real live baby involved:
“His name is Jacob, isn’t he precious??”
You see what I mean? We don’t really expect people to stop asking. But please, allow us some room for dignity when we choose not to reply.