Flashback Friday: The Case for My Name

I was to be named Holly. At a whopping 5 lb. 12 oz. and 3 weeks early, I was born to my 17-year-old mother in Shreveport, Louisiana.

Maybe I didn't look like a Holly to my mom, I don't know, but at the last minute my mom named me after her mother, Grandma Nancy. I love my grandma. She is beautiful and kind. She is forgiving and sees the good in everyone. I spent a good portion of my babyhood living with my grandparents. I was very loved and very spoiled. Although I don't see Grandma very often (she lives in New England), we have a bond. I don't even know how to describe it. We just do.

I didn't always love my name. Noone names their child Nancy these days. In high school, I hated introducing myself as Nancy. It just wasn't cute like Jennifer or Jessica or Michelle. I was called Nancy Reagan in elementary school; and later, Nancy Kerrigan. And to make things worse, my younger sister did have a cute name, Jamie. In the 7th grade, I went to a Junior High school that had a large Hispanic student population. That was the only time in my existence that I had classmates with my name. They called me "Nancita."

When I was a sophomore in high school, we spent 9 months living in New Hampshire. I decided to change my name on the school records to Nikki. Even my family called me Nikki. I still can't believe I did that. Even in college I tried to shake things up a bit and started writing my name with an "ie" instead of a "y."

I have grown to love my name. Especially after marrying and becoming a mother. I see the adults that I looked up to as a child with new eyes now that I'm an adult; I am in awe of my grandmother. Thanks mom. I'm seriously considering naming my girl , if I ever have one, Mary, after you. But then again, for those of you who know our last name, I don't think our daughter would ever forgive us.