I have a little sympathy for my daughter—not because there’s anything wrong with her, but because being the second child often means being shortchanged right from the start.
Take, for example, the saga of how we settled on her name. When you’re expecting your first child, you’ve got all the time in the world to lounge with your partner, contemplating the virtues of every name in the baby name book.
Jake: What do you think of Leo?
Me: There was a Leo in my high school who was always causing trouble. How about Max?
Jake: They’ll just call him “Max the Tax.” What about Jonah?
Me: Nope. Last boyfriend. No thanks.
Jake: How about Eli?
Me: Ugh, definitely not!
And so on, until we finally agreed on Noah. By the time I hit the 25-week mark, we had a name that carried no baggage—just a name we both loved.
With our second baby, however, there was no time for leisurely discussions. The only time we communicated about names was through random text messages while juggling takeout orders.
This back-and-forth continued for nine months, and by the time labor hit, we were still undecided. When people inquired if we had a name ready, we would mumble something about having a few ideas, but nothing solid. Our plan was to wait until she arrived, convinced that the perfect name would magically reveal itself upon seeing her.
Great idea, except it didn’t pan out. Newborns don’t look like anything but tiny, wrinkled old folks with squinty eyes. Our little one didn’t resemble a Mia, a Zoe, or even a Lily.
The hospital staff, however, was not as patient as we were, reminding us every twenty minutes that we needed a name for her birth certificate before we could leave. Sure, you can technically take an unnamed baby home, but who wants to deal with all that bureaucratic hassle later? Not us.
So there I was, instead of resting, frantically searching “Jewish girl names” online. After an entire day of contemplating whether Sadie or Sara was better, I was utterly drained. At that point, I just wanted to go home, sleep in my own bed, and take advantage of the free babysitting from my mother-in-law.
If I remember correctly, the final decision went something like this:
Me: JUST PICK A NAME ALREADY! (tears streaming down my face) I’m too exhausted!
Jake: How about Rose?
Me: Perfect, whatever. At least it’s easy to spell. Now can I please have the paperwork so I can sleep?
I’m still not sure if she really looks like a Rose, but the name is simple and, let’s face it, I was too spent to think of anything more imaginative.
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In summary, naming your second child can be a hilarious struggle filled with pressure and exhaustion. It’s not easy to balance the joy of a new addition with the realities of parenthood, but at the end of the day, the name you choose will be perfect simply because it belongs to your child.