My son is Max, named after Max from Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, my favorite book as a child.
Although we didn't find out the sex of our baby when I was pregnant, I was certain I was having a boy.
Max was pretty much the only name in the running...I didn't really entertain too many other possibilities, nor did we share our chosen name with anybody. It drove my mom crazy when I would play coy and pretend we still hadn't thought of anything.
"Come on," she'd plead.
On our way to Bryn Mawr Hospital, between contractions, Jeff and I frantically spouted out girl names just in case.
Needless to say, our baby was indeed a boy and the name Max suited him perfectly from the moment I held his tiny, squirmy body.
This time, I feel like I am having a girl, but maybe that's only because I feel pretty much the opposite of how I felt when I was pregnant with Max.
I am struggling with names...
Max desperately wants a little sister and he insists we call her Alice.
A friend suggested "Rain"..."What do you think of the name Rain? It's pretty."
"It is pretty," I said, "But, um, Rain Showers?"
"Right...I hadn't thought of that."
Naming a puppy is so much easier...