Made the Change (What's in a Name)

Ok...I decided that I would change my "name" on my blog to Baby Girl Williams/Morse. While that isn't what appears on my birth certificate, it does honor my true biological father. I don't think it sounds as good as Williams/Hernandez, but then again I've only known about my biological father's name for a little over a week now, so it'll take some time to get used to it. I had about 15 years to get used to the other one, so I'll give it some time.

Since I don't actually plan on legally changing my name from what my adoptive parents named me (barring my wedding, of course), there are little ways I can honor my first parents, and I think this is a good way of starting.

That being said, I really DO like the name Danielle Williams-Morse. There is a part of me that is that person, and always has been, I just didn't realize it until Jan 11, 2010. And I'm the one that puts the hyphen in the last names. I suppose that for me, especially since I don't have a "given" (by my first parents) middle name, I could even call myself Spot. But this is a way, also, to give a nod to what my first mom called me during her pregnancy with me, and to honor my first dad, too. I don't think my first mom would mind.

Though, this does put in my mind the funny nature of names. My adoptive mother wanted to name me Paige, but my adoptive father and adoptive brother kept calling me Dana (that's the way my a-mom says it anyway) :) What blows me away is just how close Dana is to Danielle. I never really liked the name Dana. I don't know if this is an adoptee thing or just a person thing. I hear off and on from my children that they don't like a portion of their name. I think perhaps, like I read on another blog recently, that a person's name has more to do with their parents than with them. I agree with that sentiment to an extent. It certainly seems to fit my circumstance, however there are just some people that seem to "fit" their names better than others. I rather envy those people that confidence. The ironic thing is that I've always loved the name Daniel and Danielle. I like to think that my nickname growing up would have been Dani. Ironically, the pet name my a-dad gave me was Dane-ee (I spelled it phonetically so as to get the right sound across). Those aren't that far apart in sound, really. And my a-dad was the only one who ever called me that, too. I don't recall my a-mom calling me that.

But to me, for me, someone who doesn't believe in coincidence, I see that my a-dad, imperfectly, mind you, managed to tap into some collective sub-conscious when he named me Dana. My a-dad has had all sorts of interesting "otherly" type experiences, and I think this is one of them.

In the end, everyone knows me as Dana, my a-parents, my kids, my fiance...everyone. I will always keep tucked safely away, deep in my heart, the name Danielle, though. And while the name isn't overly uncommon, it's still MINE; something my first mom called me in her secret heart of hearts during the nine months we shared together.

A reply to "What's in a name?"

What's in a name?

Recently, I read a blog of a friend of mine who is both an adoptee and a first mother who asked just this question. And it got me thinking...again.

I'll address what could perhaps be considered the first question; what's in a name?

Once upon a time much power was attributed to a name. If you knew a persons TRUE name you held power over them, so your true name remained a secret only known to you and whoever you chose to tell, which was usually your mate; and possibly one of your parents knew. It was thought that if you knew a person's true name that you could even kill them with just a simple word.

My ex-husband is attributed for naming his sister. The story goes that his parents had a hard time coming up with a name for the new baby, and he suggested both first and middle and so to this day that's what she is called. During their childhood, and even until fairly recently, brother and sister shared a very close bond. Would they have had that bond if he had just let his parents to hash things out? Who knows? But, in my opinion, I believe that his naming his baby sister was a very significant deed; maybe even a weighty responsibility.

In the Jewish religion, children aren't named after living family members, or anyone the family knows, because it is felt that to give a baby the name of someone living takes away life force from the other person.

The questions in my friend's blog are a bit more adoption specific. The answer to the first one she asks, for me, is: well, since I haven't found my first family yet, I don't know what my first name was. Her question being if there were any adoptees that had changed their name back to their original name.

I do know that the foster family that kept me during the interim time between being relinquished and being adopted called me Margot. Since I grew up in the era that had the original Superman movie with Margot Kidder, whom I did NOT like as Lois Lane, I can't say that I'm overly fond of the name Margot. Wouldn't the irony be if that's what my first mother wanted to name me?

As for how would I feel if my first son changed his name back to what I named him, I would LOVE it! But I don't see it happening at all. No matter what, in my heart of hearts I will ALWAYS refer to my first son by the name I gave him; but TO him, I call him the name his adoptive parents gave him. I can't feel too terribly bad with the name he was given, however, because it happened to be my second choice for him.

For the record, I have ALWAYS hated my name! I doubt I'd change it "back", but you never know. Dana is who I am now, it's how my children know me, how my mate knows me. I think at this late stage in the game, it would just feel strange to be called something different now.