What's in a Name?

There is an online magazine that I read called Still Standing. It’s a place where I cry, nod my head, and just generally feel understood. All of the writing is about loss and infertility – 2 topics that can make me feel so out of place in my everyday life, but in this magazine, I feel at home. Each month, they introduce a topic for a blog round up, and this month's topic is about how you chose your child’s name. It's a story that people would ask about if she had lived. But since she’s gone, we generally receive “what a beautiful name” spoken softly, like you would at a funeral.

We started discussing baby names at the end of the first trimester. We felt like we’d be tempting fate to make plans any earlier. Boys names were very difficult for us to decide on, but we had a few names going for girls. Vivienne was always at the top of the list. I’ve known for years that if I had a girl, this is the name I would want. I could only hope that Gordon felt the same. When we started discussing names, and I told him “Vivienne,” he was immediately a fan.

And so the days passed, and at about 16-17 weeks, we found out we were expecting a girl. Vivienne officially became the front runner, although I would not officially declare it as her name. I felt like I needed to see her, know her, and decide that yes, she’s a Vivienne after all. We started to discuss middle names, but couldn’t quite decide on one. We were only halfway there. We had plenty of time. Or so we thought.

When Vivienne was born at 22 weeks and 1 day, we held her, and through tears, Gordon said “she’s a Vivienne.” The hospital asked us if we wanted to name her. It felt like a pivotal moment where we recognized that our daughter was a person and that she lived. Of course we wanted to name her. We gave her the name Vivienne, and she was baptized.

When we left the hospital without our baby girl, we left her without a middle name. As Gordon was out picking up my prescriptions, he called me from the pharmacy. He wanted to give her a middle name, and it came to him while he was waiting. She would be Vivienne Grace. When he came home, we called the hospital to amend the paperwork and make sure that our daughter had her full name, including the middle name that she sent to her Dad when he needed some comfort. 

We talk about Vivienne all of the time and say her name like it’s second nature to us. We even find ourselves using the nickname we thought she’d have – Vivi – as we talk about her. It comes with some sadness, as we imagine those instances where we’d use a nickname. Those memories that we’ll never get.

Weeks after her death, as I packed up my maternity clothes and pregnancy books, I decided to look up the name Vivienne in the name book I had. The definition  - full of life. It felt like the cruelest kick to the gut. For a while after her death, I had a hard time with this inconsistency. My daughter, whose name meant full of life, was dead. I’ve now come to accept that my daughter changed my life – made me focus on what matters, and to make a difference. Her life is my life. It’s up to me to make sure her name being "full of life" is expressed through me.