Do I Regret Changing My Name? It’s Complicated
I don’t remember much about the woman who changed my name. Though something in me desires to call her Rhonda, I’d be lying if I said I remembered her name. Here’s what I can say: She was middle-aged, with a clipped, smug manner, and she worked for the hospital at which I would have my first child. On an extremely hot and humid August day, less than a month before my son was born, Rhonda (let’s just go with Rhonda) led my husband and I around labor and delivery, pointing out the room where visitors could wait and the nursery where our baby would get his first bath.
The Pressure to Change My Name
After the tour, Rhonda sat us down in her office to walk us through a mountain of pre-registration forms. The idea was to get everything important done in advance so that we’d be free to be in the moment on the day the baby was born. When we got to the part about the birth certificate, Rhonda paused. She pointed at me. “So your name is Angelo.” She pointed at my husband. “And his name is Parker. But you want the baby to be Parker, too?”
We said yes, this was right. Rhonda looked at me, perturbed. “The baby has to have the same last name as you,” she said. “If you’re Angelo, the baby will be Angelo on the birth certificate. If you want the baby to be Parker, you have to be Parker, too.”
The Decision and Regrets
By then, it was too late. The same day Rhonda told me I had to be Parker, too, I flew from the hospital in a tearful, frustrated rage and resolved to change my name within the next twenty-four hours. Suddenly, a position I’d committed to five years earlier, when I got married—I was not changing my name—blurred behind my hormonal, anxious upset over having overlooked something this big. I didn’t push back. I didn’t investigate. I flew into this-has-to-happen, just-get-it-done mode.
It wasn’t until I got to the DMV the following day that the magnitude of what I was doing hit. And then I started to regret my decision.
Reflecting on the Name Change
I wouldn’t go as far as saying I regret changing my name. I’m good with being one of The Parkers on my holiday cards. But I do regret the way I gave it up. Looking back on my name-change moment makes me wonder why we don’t always examine a woman’s choice of name around the start of a family, rather than the start of a marriage.
Matrilineal Naming
Maybe the strangest part of the whole thing wasn’t the misinformation, but the premise of the question: You want the baby to be Parker. What if we framed lineage so that the question didn’t concern brides and grooms so much as it did ensuing offspring?
Final Thoughts
These days, when my changed name rings false to me, I just change it back informally. Muscle memory is stronger than the mythical Rhonda. It overrides unexamined tradition.
Reflecting on my name change journey has been a complex and enlightening experience, reminding me of the importance of self-reflection and making choices that align with my values and identity.
Suggestion:
Be spellbound by the allure of Chanel: Collections and Creations Hardcover – click to be spellbound!