I freaking LOVE the name Owen. When I think “Owen” I think rugged like the Rocky Mountains. I think flannel shirts, boyish good looks, scraggly dirty blonde hair, athletic and manly. I think of the sweet, kind, door opening, tire changing, gentleman type. I think Chris Pratt in Jurassic World. Chris could totally be an Owen.
Upon finding out we were having a boy, I secretly, in the back of my mind, hoped we’d name him Owen. However, where I’m from(the deep south, y’all), its not uncommon to use family names as first names. So, before deciding on Owen we had to rule out all the family names first. My maiden name was Crapps – so clearly – that was out.
My mom’s maiden name was Avery(my name.) That was out. My mother in laws maiden name however, was Cannon. Something about that name we both loved. Unique, manly, powerful, strong. I had visions of him being the Florida Gator quarterback and everyone would yell “Cannon’s got a Cannon” when he ran out on the field.
Side note: My second son is named Porter. I also envision him as a Florida Gator quarterback with everyone yelling “Porter the Porterback” when he runs out on the field.
I may be a bit obsessed with Gator football but football IS LIFE in the south.
Anyways, we settled on Cannon pretty early and that was that! At the time, I found it a bit odd that my mother in law didn’t seem too enthused about us naming our son after her side of the fam. I mentioned something to my husband at the time, just ensuring that we weren’t offending anyone or stealing this baby name from another family member. He assured me all was well, so I stored that in my subconscious and moved on.
It wasn’t until about month 6 of pregnancy, when I had my first inkling that I may want to rethink naming my son after my husbands side of the family. You can scroll down to read “Christmas at Christmas Time” to find out why. Long story short, my husband, who was on deployment, left our marriage while 6 months pregnant because I wasn’t outdoorsy or fit enough. I went into preterm labor from stress, and spent some time in the hospital decompressing. I was angry. I was distraught. And quite frankly, I was not too enthused about carrying on their family name through my child! In order to keep the peace and drama to a minimum(doctors orders), I didn’t let on that I was wavering in the name game.
Some advice. Never decide for yourself that things can’t get any worse because the Universe will surely deliver to you “MUCH WORSE”!!! It was around month 8 of pregnancy. I was so close to the finish line I could literally taste the red wine in my mouth! I can’t remember if it was my mom or my best friend who called me first. We don’t want to upset you, they said. But we want you to know that it’s all over town that the baby isn’t actually your husbands. At first, I was honored. You mean, like people think I’m Mary and the baby is the next Jesus? “No, um not exactly” they said. Um, (insert nervous hesitation) actually your mother in law told some people(half the town) that the baby can’t be your husbands because he wasn’t home when you conceived. Everyone believes it’s not this baby.
Back to the hospital, I go. Distraught, hysterical, majorly creeped out that my mother in law was discussing our conception date, and of course, having contractions. At this point, the nurses know me well, and I’m far enough along that they send me home on more bed rest. I go home. Pissed. Off. You mean to tell me that I married a cheater, but now everyone in North East Florida thinks I’M THE CHEATER???? I told my husband, who was home from deployment at this point, there is no way in HELL that I am naming my son Cannon. No way in hell. His name will be Owen!!! I spent the next month fuming and secretly harboring my “Owen” secret.
God has a hilarious sense of humor. Because when that baby finally came out a month later, let me tell you he looked just like my husband!! He still does:))) “See, I TOLD you so” I wanted to scream while sticking my tongue out and shooting the bird at my MIL. However, I’m a mom now, and mom’s don’t do inappropriate things like shoot the bird, so I refrain myself.
I’ll never forget the death stare of sheer rage and hatred I received when the “birth certificate filler outer” came into the hospital room and we had to admit we were naming the baby Owen. I still get chills of fear down my spine seeing that look of pure disgust and fury. My MIL stormed out of the room and the terrified “birth certificate filler outer” followed quickly behind. “I’ll come back tomorrow for the birth certificate” the lady hollered on her way out. A little while later, MIL called my husband to tell us that she’d thought about the name Owen. Owen was a weak name, for a weak person, and her grandson was not weak. She also said that his initials would be O.O. and that he would be terribly made fun of.
Lady. I lived with the name Crapps for 30 years. Little O.O. will be JUST FINE!!!
The next day, my husband had to go to work, so I was alone with my MIL when the “birth certificate filler outer” came back by. My stomach was in knots as I despise confrontation and absolutely hate awkwardness. I just wanted to enjoy my baby and have a stress free drama free life, is that too much to ask?? Why is literally every single major life event tarnished by this family? In hindsight, I should have kicked her out of the room and defended my wishes and desires. Instead, I caved under her malicious stares, and dagger eyes, and wrote Cannon on the birth certificate.
My next post is going to be about “What Happens when you Marry the Golden Boy.” This is just a little taste of what’s to come if you dare to marry the Golden Boy.