I refuse to name the kid after a football player
Last night my husband and I sat in bed with the laptop at our knees, determined to choose a name for this baby, who hasn't even kicked me yet.
This seems like an impossible task. I know nothing about this tiny creature, now about the size of a knish (a fattening Jewish pastry), aside from the fact it's squishing my small intestine up into my chest as it takes over the rest of my body.
It hasn't made the slightest peep yet - aside from what I think might be a twist or a turn, now and again, but I'm not totally convinced those movements I feel roll across my stomach aren't just gas.
How can we give it a name when we don't know its personality?
Rarely, have I met an adult whose name didn't mesh with how they project on the world - so I suppose the baby will grow into whatever title we give it.... but I still feel like I have to meet this little thing before we decide.
And before we brand it for life with something silly like "acacia" or "d'brickshaw" - I refuse to name my kid after a football player....
The process continues...