How to name a human.

Two weeks left.

Two weeks until the baby arrives.

Fourteen days from right now. Nine working days. Two more Saturdays.

The expiration date on the milk at the grocery store is now officially past when the baby will be here. We've had eight full months to name this child, and yet, we still don’t have one chosen.

We pull up the shared Apple Note we started five years ago when we found out we were pregnant. It’s filled with previously considered names that no longer feel right or that have since been claimed by family and friends. We constantly add to it, strike through it. One of us loves a name; the other can’t get past an old girlfriend or boyfriend, or random classmate they had in middle school who was a real jerk.

Historically, we’re not great at the name game. With Caroline and Kate, we decided on the drive to the hospital and in the delivery room– one name for each gender, ready to go. We’ve told ourselves not to over think it, then promptly created arbitrary rules around the name, like: since we have a three-syllable name and a one-syllable name, the third must be two.

I fill my time drafting names on scraps of paper. I write Caroline and Kate’s full names in neat rows, slotting in various options next to theirs. Do they flow? Do they have the same style? Should we use a family name this time around so there's actual meaning? Or go trendy and cool because it's the third and why not? It’s just a name?!

But it’s not just a name. It’s their identity, the header on a resume, the word someone will say before, “I love you,” the name I’ll yell across the yard, whisper in the dark, and come to adore because it belongs to an outward part of my own heart.

I scroll the Social Security website for classic names from the 1930s and 1940s, even dipping into the 1920s. I feed prompts into AI, hoping for something that fits with our other children’s names, pairs well with our last name, and can’t be easily nicknamed.

The list is constantly changing. We don’t share it with anyone because we don’t want opinions. But I text my little sister weekly with random names I’m considering and wait for her thumbs up or down reply.

This morning, I was waiting for my decaf Americano when the barista called out the name of a customer’s order. My eyebrows rose. I texted Clayton immediately.

“Beautiful name,” he replied.

I added it to our Note and wonder, will it survive the week?

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