What's in a name?

"What's in a name?" Oh boy...what a loaded question for me lately. Shakespeare wrote that line, a whole slew of classic literature, and he managed to name three of his children. Sure, he called one of them "Hamnet", which is one heck of an unfortunate title, but still. It's a name, he came up with it, chose it, wrote it on a birth certificate (or ledger or whatever they did back then) and took the plunge. A plunge I have, so far, been completely incapable of taking. I have been carrying this baby for almost 7 months and I don't have a name for her. I don't even have a zygote of a name for her...a clue, a leaning, a short list, a maybe, a backup plan. Nothing. She is "baby-no-name". People love to ask what you're going to name your baby...it's a very popular question, up there with "is it a boy or a girl", "how far along are you" and, my personal favorite, "you are pregnant, right?" When I tell those well-meaning folks my husband and I haven't come up with a name yet, they always look at me like I'm lying...like I'm hiding the name from them...like I'm a name-hoarder. I'm not, I assure them, I just haven't found a name that pops yet. Friends and family have suggested beautiful names, names I love...like Zoe, Sophia, Eliza, Chloe. They're all great -- and I don't really know how to explain it -- but as precious as those names are, I just know for sure that they aren't my daughter's name. I know in my heart of hearts that I haven't found my baby's name yet. And I wouldn't consider myself to be someone who has a hard time making decisions...I named all of my pets without any trouble...Sasha, Ruby, Baby Electra, Little Bear, Chips, Juniper Blot, Nancy & Drew, Sour Lucy, Mary Sally, Squish. Those names all just came to me...granted some of them are weird and the pets who carried them were hamsters, foster kittens and sparrows, but name them I did. I'm usually pretty good at it. But this is different. There is a weight to this decision that I can't get past. A responsibility I am having a hard time shouldering. I don't want this little girl to have just any name. She is too special. I want her name to bloom on my lips like a smile; strike fear in her enemies' hearts; inspire great joy; fit in my pocket like a mouse; color the sky. I want it to be a revelation like this whole pregnancy has been and warm me on cold nights. I will say her name countless times through my life...I will scream it when she comes into this world and I will whisper it when I leave it. It has to fit her and fill her and give her strength and stand by her when I cannot. My daughter's name will be her calling card, her introduction, and I want her to be proud of it, to know it was given in fathomless love. So no pressure, right? Right. I wake up in cold sweat in the middle of the night thinking how badly I can screw this name thing up for my baby. But you know, while Shakespeare did write, "what's in a name", that wasn't the complete quote. It goes:

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet."

So I guess what the Bard is trying to say, is that I could call this little one Jane Doe Martinez and she would still make her way in the world. She will still be the woman my husband and I raise her to be...and will travel the paths that she chooses and color the sky if it suits her. And her name, whatever we finally choose, will bloom on my lips and fill my heart because I love her, my little girl, my sweet nameless rose.