A name not yet spoken

In many old houses, a child was not named for days, sometimes weeks. The grandmother would wait. She would watch the baby sleep, watch the baby cry, watch the way light fell on the small forehead.

A name, she believed, was not chosen. It was found.

You may already have a name in mind. You may have ten. You may have none. All of it is alright. Somewhere in the next many months, a sound will begin to feel like the right one — and one day you will say it, and it will fit.

Until then, your baby has a name only you two know. It is the way you place your hand on your belly. It is already a kind of calling.