Like many little girls that envision their wedding day long before they find their prince charming and walk down the aisle, I dreamed of naming my children at an early age.  Whether in dance class, at the park, or while watching a movie, my ears were keen to baby names that I would one day bestow upon my child.  From Alexis, to Julia and Joslyn – I was in search of the perfect name that was used as practice on Cabbage Patch Kids and Barbie dolls alike.  Sometimes the names stuck, other times they were changed quickly; regardless, a laundry list of possibilities were inventoried in my brain for future pickings.

Years later, finally pregnant, and incredibly excited to name our first girl, my husband and I were at a loss.  We weren’t in disagreement of what to name our daughter; we just couldn’t find a name we liked enough to use!  We knew we wanted a name that wasn’t too popular (sorry Emily, Ava, and Emma), made up (Story and Rain, no thank you), or unisex.  We wanted to pick a name that would capture the vision we had of our little girl – a wild, rambunctious, pig-tailed wearing child.  But website after website and book after book, we more quickly said “no” than frequently said “yes” to the thousands of choices that existed.  Finally, we settled on a shortlist of 3 names (Penelope, Zoey, Eliana) and agreed we would name our daughter upon first glance.  Perhaps seeing her would settle what she should be called for the rest of her life (no pressure, right?)!

I was wrong.  Once my daughter was born and our eyes met, the uncertainty of what to name her was lifted. I almost didn’t care. I just wanted to hold her, love her, and stare at this tiny miracle.  So instead of further questioning the perfect name, I defaulted to my husband and said, “Do you still want to call her Penelope?”  With tears in his eyes he responded, “You will let me name our daughter?” I responded, “Yes”.  And within 30 seconds, after 41 weeks of agony, Penelope Rae was named.  It seemed simple, it seemed right.

Yet here we are again with another girl on the way, and I am back at square one contemplating, questioning, the shortlist we’ve created with the additional pressure of picking a name that lives up to the excitement of Penelope.  The inventory of names from my childhood has been erased and no particular meaningful names comes to mind, and so I am left with deciding on factors like sound, sibset compatibility, and popularity.  The naming of our second child seems like a daunting task that may never be completed and I can’t help but think that we will end up back in the labor room making a last minute decision based on emotion, based on Daddy’s pick.  And perhaps that’s the best approach since Penelope wound up being a perfect match.

Have you struggled with naming your baby?  Are you naming your child based off tradition or using family names?

Plus, more from The Bump:

How to Pick a Name Without Picking a Fight

A No-Stress Guide to Baby Naming

Hot Baby Names Inspired by 2012

I am pregnant.

My already large breasts have grown to the size of two cantaloupes. My nipples look like they have met a tanning bed. I haven’t seen my vagina in weeks, and I have bright blue veins running the length of my body.

Remind me of my beauty. Help me embrace my current shape. Rub my growing belly.

I am pregnant.

The smell of most food repulses me.  The intense taste of spices and flavor additives like garlic, oregano, and onion cause me to gag.

Accept my unspoken apology when I do not eat the meal you have cooked. I want to, but I can’t. It will go down and come up. The nicest gesture you can extend is to ask what else I would like.

I am pregnant.

My moods fluctuate often and in an instant. Christmas music makes me cry. Q-tips in the toilet cause me to unravel in rage.

Don’t judge my emotions and reactions to things. Don’t ask me “What’s your problem?” Understand the sane part of who I am is hidden under my rising hormone levels.

I am pregnant.

My belly is round and quite large. My lungs are compressed by the inside human that continues to grow. At night I toss and turn. During the day, typical tasks like mopping a floor or scrubbing a tub take extra time.

Rub my back, do the dishes, or place an extra blanket on my side of the bed. Tell me it is okay to just relax… and mean it. Ask me what you can do to help and do what I ask. The smallest, meaningful gestures make me love you more and allow me to accept the limitations of my current body.

I am pregnant.

One day I will give birth. I will labor in pain and demonstrate strength of steel. I will stay focused and will search deep to successfully deliver our child safely to this world. Afterwards I will suffer silently. I will be sore. I will physically hurt. I will need rest with no time to spare for myself.

Let me sleep. Take care of me. Take care of our children. Temporarily carry the burden so I can recover.  Appease my unreasonable requests. Be my superman. Our family will need you.

I am pregnant.

What do you wish you could tell your partner about being pregnant?

A few nights ago during a heated husband-wife argument, my other half slipped in how I am not the adventurous, pre-child lifestyle-maintaining mom I once swore I’d be. This is true. Prior to having my daughter, I would talk extensively about how our life would move forward as normal with the simple insertion of a child. I envisioned dinners out with a quiet baby sleeping in a sling. I talked of routine date nights full of wine and dancing, and I assured our annual overseas vacations would continue without a hitch.

What I promised was based on the life I was living, the only life I had known — one without a baby. What I hadn’t been privy to was the extreme exhaustion, innate needs of my child, and a shift in my own personal desires that would drastically change my perspective and reality of parenthood.

The exhaustion. When you’re weeks away from delivery and family, friends, and even strangers make the snarky comment “sleep while you can,” they aren’t joking. They aren’t making fun (well maybe, a little). They’re simply trying to advise that once your newborn arrives your sleep may be may be non-existent, and even when your baby becomes a routine, 10 to 12 hour a night sleeper — you will never sleep the way you did pre-delivery. You will wake at every noise; you will worry at every cough; and you will rock, soothe, make bottles, and change diapers in a state of delirium at 2 a.m. It gets better, and it gets easier, but it will never be the same. And even after nights when my husband and I get a complete night’s sleep, we’re still exhausted! What first-time parents may not realize is that, after the baby is born, life for most continues on just as it had pre-baby, with hundreds of additional responsibilities inserted before, during, and after work. This equates to complete exhaustion!  My point? I’m tired! If I have free time (which usually comes between the hours of 8:30 p.m. and 10:00 p.m.) I want to take a hot shower or watch trashy TV shows. I have no desire to over-indulge in alcohol, dance on tables, or bar hop.

The needs of my child. In my fantasy world, I’d have given birth to an adaptable baby who would sleep through dinners out, car rides home, and stroller trips through the mall. Oh, did I get it wrong. I never accounted for the need to accommodate my child’s schedule. I had no idea that a well-rested, confident, and good tempered child develops from the love of their parents in addition to an environment that provides consistency and routine in every area of their infant existence. This means being home for scheduled nap times, bath times, and bed times. This means waking, eating meals, playing, and putting the baby to bed at regular times each day and night. This means it is very difficult to plan anything for yourself to do because your day is dictated by the schedule and innate needs of your baby. Once I was empowered with this information, I gladly gave up my spontaneous trips to Target, the grocery store and other not-really-important locations, knowing it was vital to develop a routine that would later allow for pleasant mommy and baby trips out.

My own personal desires. I quickly learned that pregnancy and motherhood are worlds apart. What you thought, envisioned and dreamed of while pregnant may be a very different (sometimes better, sometimes worse) reality once a mother. I experienced an instant transformation the moment  I laid eyes on our daughter.  I am consumed by my child and my fierce desire to love, provide, educate, and teach her everything that is possible (and age appropriate). I rarely choose to be away from her, and genuinely prefer playing blocks on our living room floor together rather than shopping or getting my nails done.

Everything my husband said was true. I thought I would be that mom who made parenthood look easy, who made parenthood look, well, not like parenthood. But what I have since learned is that having a child changes your life completely and irrevocably. And if it doesn’t, you’re probably doing something wrong.

How has pregnancy and/or parenthood changed you?

At 17 weeks and three days pregnant, I finally told my employer that I’m expecting my second child. Just like with my first child, I was scared to death to share my news and held off telling work as long as my baby bump would allow. Layered, flowing shirts and loose pants aided nicely in my endeavor to keep my secret as long as possible.

It’s a sad truth, but while your manager, boss, supervisor (call them what you may) will congratulate you, behind their forced smile, they’re likely predicting how this life change will impact your performance and their workload.

“How many hours or days of work will she miss for OB visits?”

“Will she return to work after her maternity leave?”

“How much of her maternity leave will she utilize?”

“Will she constantly be taking off work because the baby is sick or childcare falls through?”

“Will she be too exhausted and sleep deprived to focus?”

“Will she resent coming to work and have a poor attitude, wishing she were at home with her baby instead?”

Sure these are valid concerns for employers, but moms and moms-to-be carry their own set of worries when it comes to post-pregnancy employment.

“Will my employer find a replacement while I’m on maternity leave?”

“Will my job offer a flexible transition period when I go back to work?”

“Will I still be a candidate for a previously discussed promotion?”

“Will my office support and provide space and time for me to pump breast milk?”

“Will it be frowned upon when I take off time from work for my child’s doctor’s appointments?”

So, this week, when the maternity pants became mandatory to accommodate my growing waistline, so did telling the truth to my boss. And you’d think that I’d feel secure in sharing my news– I’ve worked for the same company for seven years; have been promoted twice; have received numerous performance awards; and have already had a baby, returned to work, and successfully demonstrated the ability to balance both a career and motherhood. But, walking into my boss’s office, my heart raced, my palms got sweaty, and I felt as if I were turning myself in for committing some sort of unlawful act. Of course, her response was gracious and congratulations were shared, but I left her office knowing that deep inside, she was disappointed to lose a little bit more of me to motherhood again.

I am 23 weeks and five days away from meeting my next baby, but unlike my first pregnancy, the fears of labor and delivery, breastfeeding and picking the perfect baby name are no longer at the top of my “worry list.” Instead my anxiety is focused on how I could possibly love this child as much as I love my first — my dear, sixteen month-old, Penelope.

I felt connected to Penelope the day I saw the word “yes” flash across the digital pee test, and over the next nine months my relationship with my unborn child grew as I wrote to her in my journal and talked to her aloud during my long drives to and from work. I never questioned my ability to love her, since I was already in love with her months before we met.

Once Penelope was born, my world was shaken and shifted in a direction I never expected. My priorities, desires and dreams now all center around my daughter and her happiness. I’ve become lost in her blue-eyed love spell and am finally able to truly grasp the concept of unconditional love and sacrifice.

My current pregnancy, on the other had, hasn’t been a connected love-fest of diary entries and soft sung lullabies. It’s been filled with exhaustion, nausea and complex thoughts that routinely make me doubt my ability to equally love and mother two children simultaneously.

Although embarrassed and a bit ashamed, I hesitantly asked my friend Jessica, a recent mom to two kids under two years old, if she carried the same fear during her second pregnancy. “Of course,” she responded! “What you are feeling is normal. All you know is your love for Penelope, who you think is perfect.” She continued, “How could you think any other baby would be better, even your own?” Jessica went on to tell me that I will probably carry my doubt throughout my pregnancy. She said, “But once that new baby is in your arms, you’ll feel instant relief and fall in love all over again.” Jessica went on to remind me of one of the main reasons I want to expand our family, saying, “And just wait for your children to connect, watch and respond to one another — that is a whole new love you will all get to experience.”

I hung up the phone and took a deep breath. I no longer felt alone and I no longer felt like a bad mother for having those thoughts. Instead I realized my fear of not being able to love my second child like my first was due to my deep desire to give another what I had already given one.

Learn more about Danielle, a newly added guest blogger for The Bump by watching her introductory video here!