Naming Crimes Resolved

When my youngest sister brought her first baby home, no one noticed there was a problem.

But an alarm went off for me.

I was a senior in high school at the time and was looking forward to graduating in June and starting college in the fall. I had been active in choir and drama, along with church and community activities, but we were all looking forward to my sister's return with her new baby.

I had spent a lot of time during high school dreaming up names for my future kids. My first son would be Derek Lee Vard, inspired by the movie star John Derek and Lee Vard, a friend from church.

My first daughter would be Desiree Yvette, inspired by the lead in a 1954 American historical romantic film.

And if I had a second girl, she’d be Monique Michelle. These names were my treasures, known to my family and friends as my 'future babies.'

I was 16 and years away from getting married and having children, but at least my perfect names were decided: Derek Lee Vard, Desiree Yvette, and Monique Michelle.

That's why when my youngest sister returned home with her new baby and announced her son's name was Derek Lee Vard, I was shocked.

The room seemed to be spinning for a moment as I tried to process what she’d just said.

Derek Lee Vard?

My Derek Lee Vard?

My throat tightened, and I felt heat rising to my face.

Did she know what she’d done? Should I say something?

Everyone was cooing over the baby, but I could barely look at him.

My future son’s name was gone—given to someone else."

My sister didn't even know the source of her new son's name, but the damage was done.

I moved on to graduate from high school that June, began attending the local teacher's college in the fall, and turned my attention to a new set of boys, sorority life, and college activities.

But it wasn't over.

I was in for an even bigger shock when my second sister got married and joined her husband, stationed with the US Army in Germany. During their time there she gave birth to their first two kids.

Daughters.

You guessed it.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

My second sister named her daughters Desiree Yvette and Monique Michelle.

What was wrong with these people?

THOSE WERE MY NAMES!

By then I was focusing on finishing college and decided to take the high road.

But years later, after finishing my first two years of teaching, when I had my first child at age 24, I flashed back to the time when I had my baby names carefully selected.

I had cherished those names, but now they were the names of my first nieces and nephew.

I had to choose new names for my babies.

One thing I neglected to do until my first child was born was to ask my sisters why they "stole" my babies' names.

So after I brought my first baby, a daughter, home from the hospital, I abandoned the high road and asked them what I had always wondered: "Why did you take my babies' names?"

"We figured you'd become an old maid and never need those names, so we took them!"

"I see.”

But I didn't really.

It hurt that they had decided my fate when I was in high school.

Perhaps because I loved school and had always wanted to be a teacher, they had decided I would never get married or have children.

I can't imagine doing the same thing to them or anyone else.

The Final Outcome

I managed to find names for my four children, of course (pictured above is a modification of a photo of us baking holiday cookies when they were young.)

Both of my sisters are now deceased, and their kids, as well as mine, are middle-aged.

While “stealing" names may not be a crime punishable by law, family disputes over names are more common than you'd think and have caused fierce family feuds.

Writing about my experience has given me a new perspective.

In the end, I've let it go.

The names Derek, Desiree, and Monique were never meant to be mine.

Choosing names when I actually began having children gave me a chance to create names with my husband’s input, names with new stories and new meanings.

And yet, I still wonder… was it petty sibling rivalry, or did my sisters really believe I was destined to be a spinster and never use those names?

I believe my youngest sister hadn't given much thought to what she'd name her son until she had to fill out the paperwork for the birth certificate. She had a good heart and was cavalier and spontaneous all her life. I think she just picked a name she had heard many times.

My middle sister, on the other hand, had a mean streak I never understood. Even as a kid she seemed to be nursing some sadness, so perhaps she got some strange joy from taking something that meant a lot to me.

Of course, I’ll never know.
And now, I don't need to know.

I'm at peace with the life I created following my dreams.

I feel especially blessed that I got to be mom to four beautiful and smart children (seen in photo above baking Christmas cookies) and now grandmom to three grandkids and great-grandmom to nine great-grandchildren (on last count.)

Hollywood couldn't have produced a better ending.
😊🌟😊


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