Baby Names

A few weeks before Val was born my dad finalized his 70s music playlist for my husband (who sadly missed out on the golden era of Americana). In Val's first days home from the hospital, Peter had this playlist on repeat (all hours of the day and night, because, newborns). As I nursed my baby and changed his diapers, I heard Jim Croce's "Rapid Roy" on repeat and thought to myself what a devilishly cute little brother Roy could be to Val. That song brought me a lot of pep and joy during those tiring first weeks. 

I wanted to get pregnant again immediately. I wanted Val and his sibling to be close in age and to enjoy the togetherness me and my Irish twin enjoyed. I wanted to have more children while my body and mind had the benefit of all this preparation at the ready. On the last day of 2024, Peter, my mom, and I sat discussing things we would have changed about this past year. Peter and I agreed, we would have wished that Val already had a sibling. 

But of course, God has His own timing. 

When we learned we were pregnant again, I was immediately hopeful it would be another boy. Immediately my mind was on names to make this theoretical baby feel more real. Where did it come from? I can't actually pinpoint the genesis. But I have been obsessed with the name Lee. A baby boy named after his mama. A gender-ambiguous but still fairly manly name like his brother has. Joining the ranks of many prestigious Lees. Lee Pace, Lee Strobel, Lee Corso, Lee . . . Harvey Oswald? Robert E. Lee? Well, okay. 

 

Unlike Valor, it doesn't mean anything particularly noble. This was always my sadness with my own name. Lee in the dictionary means "the sheltered side," which I suppose is nice. In old English, it meant field. Meh. Possibly "plum tree" in Cantonese, Mandarin, and Hokkien. The most common surname in Macau, so no points for originality, either. 

This is how Val came not to be named Bear, despite lobbying for that name the majority of the pregnancy. I found myself explaining out loud to a friend why I wanted to name my child that, despite the clunky animal associations, and I suddenly found (mostly thanks to Cocaine Bear), that those unpleasant associations overpowered my affection. Similarly, I struggle to articulate my affinity for Lee. But the affinity persists! 

Then the other day we were doing some housework and Peter turned on my dad's 70s playlist, leading inevitably to Jim Croce. I rushed to find Peter and exclaimed, "What about Roy?!" Peter just stared at me. "From The Office?" And it is hard to imagine how I could give my son the same name as Pam's boorish fiancé (even though it feels like an homage, since we watch The Office nearly nightly). 

Time will tell how our children come to appreciate our reasoning (or lack thereof) in naming them. I hope we make them proud!