Names are such an important part of who we are as individuals. I always find it interesting how most people really seem to “fit” their name. How many times have we heard people say that is a perfect name for so and so? Sometimes we know that our parents had more than one name picked out for us before we were born. Some parents may even have two or three names selected but decide to wait and see which name fits their baby – like my friends who selected both Neva and Claire as possible names. In the end they went with Neva. They also tried out several names on their son before settling on Henry after about 2 months. I guess some people take a really long time to decide! Or some parents have one boy name and one girl name ready to go. My husband was going to be either Michael or Jennifer. We know which one he turned out to be!
But some people, like adoptees, may have numerous names before or after they are born. I have three different names. Actually I have a fourth name that I use to write this blog, Stephanie. The name Stephanie is one that I picked out for myself when I was about 9 or 10 years old. That summer I found a long, blond wig at a yard sale. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen (although in retrospect I realize it was probably a cheap wig from a Halloween costume). I begged my mom to let me buy it – it cost 50 cents. I wanted so much to have long, flowing blond hair (clearly a topic of a future blog post) and with this wig I had it! For an entire summer I required my family to call me Stephanie any time I was wearing the wig. When I didn’t have it on I’d answer to my real name. I’m not sure what happened to that wig. One day toward the end of summer it just vanished. My guess is that one night while I was sleeping my mom took it out of my room and threw it in the trash. At least that is what I hope she did.
My first name was Roberta Frances. That is the name my birth mom gave me when she was pregnant. I only learned of this name after she and I reconnected when I was in my early 20s. She said in her mind she’d always thought of me as Robi. She chose that name because she admired and supported of Robert F. Kennedy and he was killed that summer she was waiting for me to be born. I appreciate the significance of that name but I could never imagine being called Robi. Cute, but just not me.
My next name was given to me while I was in foster care before my parents adopted me. The foster parents were given the first and last initial of the birth mother’s name and then picked a name using those two letters. The letters they were given were N and E. Thus, they named me Norma Ellis. Ok, I’m not going to lie. I really don’t like that name. I’m very glad my name is not Norma. When my parents got me they had a name picked out. It was actually my dad who named me. It is a fairly uncommon name and is frequently misspelled and/or mispronounced – but I still like it. That name I will keep private.
Today with open adoption there can be even more names in the mix. Many birth parents choose a name for their babies. Some adoptive parents even keep that name or incorporate it into a new name. Although I have just one legal name I actually enjoy having a few others too. I like knowing the stories behind each name. It makes me realize just how much my real name fits me. It is perfect.
Anyone else want to share their other names? Please post below.
Photo Credit: Stephanie J. 2007
I know what you mean about feeling a name is right for you. My birth Mom gave me a good name and spelled it differently so that made it unique but I never felt like it “fit” me. The short version feels totally right and I began introducing myself that way several years ago but I hate my full name and refuse to respond to it. When I was little I didn’t want to upset my Mom by saying anything so I too came up with beautiful names that my girlfriends and I would use. Whenever we played, I would insist on being called Diana, Linda or Teagan Elise. I always liked Kelly and Holly too but rarely used them. Your story with the wig is hilarious. 9 years ago I found my birth mom and found out what she named me. I really like it and could imagine being called that my whole life. Some of my birth brothers and friends call me by my birth name from time to time. It’s kind of cool to have a whole other identity isn’t it?
I think it is interesting that all your names are feminized men’s names – Stephanie, Roberta, Norma. Doesn’t mean anything, but just interesting! (Is your “real” name also one of those?)
I was given a name at birth by my b-mom who only held me briefly one time and then never saw me again for 39 years. That is Lisa which I use here. The name is on my original BC, which I also didn’t see for 39 years so I never knew about it. Although b-mom had requested when she gave me up that I would keep the name she gave me, we all know how that goes (this was early ’60’s – the “secrets and lies” era).
Once I point blank asked my mom if I had been given another name at birth and she point blank told me NO. Probably she didn’t even about it herself, so she wasn’t exactly lying, but she refused to even entertain the topic or consider that it was a possiblity and that it would have meant the world to me to know my b-mother loved me enough to give me a name. Many emotions connected to that….
So I grew up with a name that I neither like nor hate. It is a plain, dull name. I used to ENVY girls who had “cute” names when I was growing up. I would have LOVED to be called Lisa! And when I met my b-mother she had a hard time remembering to call me by my real name because I had been Lisa to her since I was born and every time she heard a girl called Lisa she thought of me.
A name is one of the most personal and intimate parts of our identity. The whole name changing thing is just another one of the ways adoptees get jacked around emotionally. I wonder if your desire to be “Stephanie” had something to do with identity issues.
Thanks for sharing your story!
There is an importance in a name. I was not and will never be told that I am adopted from my mother who raised me. My younger sister by 19 1/2 weeks was adopted first as an infant, and I later as a toddler. Although both sides of the family knew of the adoptions everything was kept silent. When my cousins from my mom’s side of the family would tease me about being adopted and half-breed and they did not want to play with me, my mother said they were lying, and to go play. When I had married and was pregnant, the doctor asking about family medical history informed me that it was medically impossible for birth siblings to be 19 1/2 weeks about, so at 23 years of age I learned my mother had lied, and my cousins were right. At the age of 47 a cousin on my father’s side of the family confirmed that I was adopted, the first person to break the years of silence, lies and deception. Shortly after learning I obtained my adoption records, my birth parents were married over a year before I was born, I was adopted at 18 months, and they named me Bonnie Jo. I do not really see myself as a Bonnie Jo, but with the farming/ranching lifestyle I live, it would fit in. I purchased a puppy a few months later, I named my puppy Bonnie… I have to face the truth of my adoption, of who I am each time I call her. My mom and her side of the family still deny the adoption, but I choose to live with truth and I face it each morning when I get up and Bonnie greets me to be let out the door.
Carpal Tunnel Streches…
[...]The Name Game — Adoptee[...]…