Choosing a title for my blog was like naming my child. Having some familiarity with her development inside my body, I thought it would be easy to name her. It was, at first.

Thinking she was a boy, my husband and I quickly settled on a boy’s name that rolled off the tongue, had no negative connotations for either of us, contained an attractive nickname possibility, and the initials promised an auspicious future, according to my numerology friend. When our ‘son’ was born, however, he turned out to be a girl, so another name had to be sought. A new list formed and grew; names were researched, discussed, considered and tossed. Finally, agreement was reached and our last creative act in the forming of our daughter’s fate (if you believe in such things being attached to names) was complete. The name felt right, as if she had always existed, and after the first few hours of knowing her, neither of us could imagine life without her and her name in it. It seemed as if she had always been there between us, waiting for us to make her happen.

This morning when I got over the initial stage fright of joining a public forum for my first blog, I faced once again, the same feelings about naming my child. The thoughts I write have been formed inside me; words made of bone, flesh, muscle and nerve. While I want to release them and give them an opportunity to express creatively that which they need to say in order to live, I’m also aware of my desire that they be accepted, respected and perhaps even loved by those who look upon them.

I see other bloggers with the eyes of a new parent who suddenly understands how other parents feel, and how precious their child is. Like taking my infant to pre-school and watching other parents’ worried faces as they drop off their toddlers. I catch their eyes and smile, hoping their child won’t eat mine, but become her first playschool friend. I let go of her hand, feel her excitement as she runs towards the playground, and the pen in my pocket – the one that I used to hold and control – breaks under the pressure of my worrying thumb. I finger the pieces unconscious of the freed ink spreading into cloth, while my daughter, freed into the world of her cohorts, runs to explore, challenge and enjoy.

As I labour these thoughts, nurturing the words, encouraging their growth, I reach the point where it’s time to let them go.  I release them in the hope that they will be accepted, respected and perhaps even, loved, by some. This broken pen writer has just given birth.

Photo courtesy of James Bruce, Timberscombe, Somerset, UK



Filed under Non-Fiction, Uncategorized

12 responses to “Naming

  1. Terry

    Being the child in question (luckily she didn’t break me on the way out) I feel compelled to be the first to comment – this too is my first blog experience!
    Fab writing – may it always create a reaction from it’s readers – It would be false and unfair to ask for all positive reactions, but to provoke a reaction from those who see it (again, a bit like your child – or marmite. You either love it or you hate it)

    • To my child in question: You were a question once, before you became an exclamation point, followed by many commas and a declaratory period or two. But you were never marmite. I am one of those, as you know, who cannot stand marmite, except perhaps in gravy or soup, but that doesn’t count. You, on the other hand, I enjoy even more than peanut butter and blueberry jam. Thank you for reading and being my ‘first’ in many more than one way.
      I love you,

  2. Barbara

    Beautifully written and so thought provoking – like a conversation – once begun it can take you anywhere. I look forward to the journey and feel priviledged to have been invited along.

    • As my journey approaches I realize that this time I carry a new part of me in my bag. It’s wrapped in soft tissue that glows with many colors and each time you pull a sheet back, another emerges. Deep inside, in one of the corners, there is a bundle of excitement that has your name on it. Let us get together and write…

  3. Sunyoo Avanzino

    Congratulations on your new commitment to do a blogging!
    Enjoyed reading your “naming” journey and liked your comparison between “Naming” and the birth of your child. Lovely written as always. Wish you keep up with your great creative work. Miss your fabulous smile…

    • Take your words on a walk, drop them in the river, then watch where they go. Do they swirl in the eddy, catch on boulders and branches, or do they slip over falls and find their way home? Keep writing, dear friend.

  4. marion and jim Coyne

    Thank-you for the invitation to share your posts. Best wishes as you once again begin a new journey. We have crossed paths many times, on several continents (well, two continents, but several sounds better 🙂 I love how you can weave words!

  5. Magda

    Congratulations Cindy, it’s so great to keep in touch with your wisdom and beautiful deep thoughts…no matter where I am in the world

    • If it wasn’t for your sweet bullying, I would not have started this blog. Now that I have, I’m hooked. I’m writing nearly every day – not necessarily what I planned to write – but what demands to be written. The words seem to have a life and power of their own, always surprising me with what comes out. The more I write, the more words start lining up, knocking on my mental door, shouting, “It’s my turn now!” “No it isn’t – it’s mine!” Hey, move over buddy; she promised to write me first.” “She did not – I heard her say she never makes promises any more.” After the words start crushing and shoving, building up like a volcano in this writer’s head, I have to take Libby for a walk, gaze at the ducklings diving in the pond beside their competent mother. The waterfall pours from the upper pond to the lower, and I think of all those words needing release. I walk home, sit down and let them out to play. Thank you Andrea for giving me orders to go ahead and be who I am – a writer. Big Hug.

  6. Fred Croker

    Cindy, these are just lovely…… keep up the creative work for us all to enjoy.

    Love you my little sister,


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