When I was pregnant with our youngest child, Gary and I didn't find out whether the baby was going to be a girl or a boy. I'm pretty sure that became the trend after he was born.
Speaking of which, does it bug anyone else out there when people say Oh, yes, we found out the sex of the baby but we're not telling anyone. What the heck is that all about? If you're not going to tell anyone, then why tell everyone that you know? They may as well say I know something you don't know in a spoiled bratty voice. And then they should just stick their tongues out at everyone around them. Nannie, nannie, boo, boo. Ugh! Okay, okay...to each their own. Personally, in order for me to know and not tell anyone, I would have had to cut my tongue out.
Anyway, if the baby was a boy, I really wanted a George. I love, love, love that name. I love everything about that name. Just say it. George. Oh, George. Love the way my mouth moves when I say that.
When I presented to Gary that George would be the perfect name for a boy, I got less than the you are so right Lynn I was expecting. It was more like a hell no Lynn, not happenin.
What? What's wrong with the name George. Forgive me all of you George's out there reading this. Personally I think your parents were brilliant!
In my own little mind, I thought to myself I'm not going to worry about it. It may be a mute point anyway since the baby could be a girl, right? I decided I would just go about my big belly business and when I went into labor and delivered the baby, Gary would feel so sorry for me and my excruciating pain that when the doctor says, "It's a boy", and the nurse asks, "What is his name?", I planned to just scream out..."George!" So, so sure my plan would work.
Well, guess what? Didn't work. I did scream out...George! Gary then turned to the nurse and told her I was only kidding and that was not really his name. So, I starting soliciting opinions of all the nurses and my doctor. I was so looking for support while they were stitching me up. Obviously they didn't want to get involved. It got pretty quiet in there. Awkward, huh?
Two days later, it was time to leave the hospital with our nameless newborn. The nurse told us she needed a name before we leave the hospital or the paperwork would read Baby Coggin. Well, that wasn't going to work so I asked Gary to just name the baby so we could leave the hospital. He walked out of the room to let the nurse know the name.
Now, in my own very hormonal world, I truly believed Gary was going to surprise me and come back to tell me that he named the baby George. I was sure I had convinced him over the past two days that he looked like a George. Umm...whatever that meant.
When Gary came back into the room, I was all packed and ready to go home with George. So excited.
Me: So, what's his name?
Gary: Kevin Thomas.
Me: Well, we agreed on Thomas as the middle name but Kevin? Where did you come up with Kevin?
Gary: I thought Kevin Coggin sounded good.
Me: Really? Umm..we never even discussed Kevin.
Well, we left the hospital with Kevin Thomas Coggin in tow.
After much discussion that night - yes, and tears...remember the hormones were raging - we realized Kevin wasn't going to work. So, I called the hospital the next morning to see how I go about changing his name. My file had already been sent down to Medical Records. Oh, no. Is is too late? Please put me through to Medical Records. Ridiculous as it was, I was sobbing. Who was I? Yikes.
Fortunately, the woman in Medical Records heard my desperate plea through my sniffling and told me she would hold the paperwork for two days before she sent it off to the state. I was to call her on Thursday by 10:00am and she would change his name. Whew.
For the next two days, we read every baby name book ever published and still couldn't come up with the oh most perfect baby boy name. Next step? God. Surely He would have the answer. We pulled out a book we had of male saint names. We decided that we would ask God to name this baby. I convinced Gary that we would open the book and point to a name on the page. Gary would then have his choice between that name or George. Yes, I still was holding out hope for that beloved name. Sick, huh?
So, we closed our eyes, opened the book, and looked down. HA! Saint Blaise. YAY! Gary is never going to name this kid Blaise. Woo-Hoo for me! His name will be George, right?
Not.
Gary said Blaise it would be.
Wait. What? He must be bluffing.
Me: Gary, I'm calling the lady at the hospital.
Gary: Okay, tell her Blaise.
Me: I'm dialing...right now. I am going to tell her Blaise Thomas.
Gary: Okay.
Hmm...
When I told the Medical Records woman the name, she was all like really, how do you spell that?
I had to look back at the book to see how it was spelled.
Now...I have to admit that Blaise is a perfect Blaise. I can't imagine calling him anything else - even George.
Thank you God.
Oh, yeah, and...gulp...Gary...you were right.
