Sinead is seeking baby name inspiration. Photo by Sylvie Whinray
Sinead contemplates what name will work best for her baby. The name Sinead’s husband suggests sounds like someone clearing their throats, but it hasn’t stuck.
I did have a list of really good names, but over the years I’ve accidentally used them all on my babies on that computer game, The Sims. And now I have just three and a half months to find a name for my real-life daughter and like a weird idiot I’ve wasted all my best ones on my fake cartoon children.
My husband said ultimately, I have the final say on our baby’s name because he’s already named two kids (also, I get the final say on everything anyway, because he is a broken man).
I thought him conceding to this would make it easier to pick a name, except for the fact that every time I suggest one, instead of saying “Your call, remember!” he tells me how terrible he thinks it is.
We have very different tastes, you see (which I need to now illustrate with examples, but I don’t know how to, without offending people with these names, so I’m very sorry if yours is in here).
My husband likes all the traditional “top 10 names for girls” like Sophie and Isabella, which I know are popular for a reason, because they’re very beautiful sounding, but to me are unoriginal and boring.
But maybe you’ll agree with him that my picks are the awful ones. See, I’m pushing for a boy’s name for her like James, which I think is cool and chic and my husband thinks is child abuse.
My other favorite is Vivienne. Vivi, as he’s known, was cute, French, elegant, and he said it sounds like a bleached-haired, chain-smoker.
I just can’t name her something that four other girls in her class are going to be called. I don’t want her to be “Ava D”.
After tossing around the names Tuesday (what?) thirty years ago, my parents settled on Sinead. After tossing up between the names Tuesday (what?) and Willow (which would be mortifying since I turned out not to be tall and ethereal, but very short and dumpy), my parents decided on Sinead.
Because in 1992, mums were using normal names for their babies, such as Hannah and Annabelle, instead of naming them after bald Irish singers like Sineads, there weren’t any Sineads growing up. Except for the long, painful days that we would have a relief teacher who would be absolutely terrible at pronunciation, I loved my name. I like that people only have to say my first name and people still know who they’re talking about – like Beyonce or Cher.
Another name I love is Hara, which my husband cruelly says is “not a name, it’s just a noise”, like the sound if you had bronchitis and you were clearing your throat.
He thinks we should just wait until we meet her to choose, but as I’m planning on a scheduled C-section I don’t want to risk coming up with her name when I’m high as a kite on morphine, especially when I’m already suggesting insane names like Tigerlily when I’m sober.
There’s also the issue of our last name, Dye – which is awful and may as well be Death. And it’s so short and blunt that you really need a long, flowery name like Penelope to soften it. Penelope is Penny, which I love, but my husband loathes it.
My stepsons, God bless them, are also trying their best to help. But it’s very difficult trying to gently reject the suggestions of a 7 and 9-year-old without hurting their feelings. So far, they’ve offered up Enid and Gladys, which I’ve assured them are “sooo lovely!” Maybe for the next baby? If she is born 82?”
Ollie is the name that we can all agree upon right now. It would technically be short for my husband’s pick Olivia, but I would refuse to ever call her that because it’s way too common and, also, I did not like Olivia on the most recent season of Love Island. It was strange to hear her speak through her gritted, edgy teeth.
But Ollie is a quite cute, boy-ish name that I can get on board with, so we’ve been calling her that for the last month. Ollie-poly is what I call her when she flips in my stomach. I don’t really care about sharing her temporary name in this column because I’m so hormonal and mental that I’ll probably hate it by the end of the week.
And while I think most normal people don’t want unsolicited advice on their unborn child’s name, I would really love some. You can message me on Instagram if you have any suggestions. Otherwise, my daughter might be called Tigerlily. Thank you.
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