As I lay in the ICU, recovering from a life-threatening situation, a nurse entered from the NICU and asked with a warm smile, “Have you decided on names for your babies?” At that moment, my triplets were just 2 days old, and until then, they had been referred to as “Baby A,” “Baby B,” and “Baby C.” Born over 17 weeks prematurely, my husband and I hadn’t settled on names. How could we name “Baby A,” who tragically had already passed away? This was a challenge we never anticipated.
It’s commonplace for parents to select names after seeing their newborns, as it helps to cement their identities. However, that wasn’t our scenario. My husband and I had barely discussed names, aside from joking about needing six—three first names and three middle ones.
The fear was palpable.
After almost losing our triplets at 18 weeks gestation, we found ourselves holding our breath. Rather than preparing a nursery, we were anxiously counting down the weeks until our babies would reach a medical milestone of viability. That moment didn’t come until they were born at 22 weeks and 6 days. Thankfully, our doctors gave the triplets a chance, and all were born alive. Sadly, within just two hours of her birth, our firstborn, Lily, passed away in our arms. Overwhelmed by grief and shock, naming our children felt far from our minds.
On the third day, we learned that the NICU staff had affectionately given our tiny 1-pound infants nicknames starting with the letter “H.” It hit me then; we could no longer postpone this decision. I had only briefly met my children when I was finally wheeled to the NICU, but I knew deep down that it was time to choose their names. With a tangle of wires and IVs attached to me, my husband and I began to brainstorm. I opened my phone, where I had kept a list of names I had compiled over the years. I had always loved the names Jamie and Jordan, and fortunately, my husband felt the same. That part was easy—Jamie and Jordan were still with us.
Meanwhile, several floors below, in the hospital morgue, lay our serene angel, known only as “Baby A.” It pains me to admit that I hesitated about naming her. What if none of our children survived? What if I wasted a name? How could I name a child I had only seen for a few hours, whose eyes were still fused shut? Looking back nearly three years later, I realize I underestimated the significance of a name. We had always thought that Lily sounded lovely. We followed our instincts, and I am grateful we did.
What I didn’t comprehend three years ago was this: a name is just a label; it’s the person behind it who truly matters. Your name shapes your identity, but it’s how you choose to live that name that defines your legacy. When we named our children, there was no deep reasoning; we simply picked names we cherished. After Lily passed, followed by Jamie two months later, I found myself uncertain about when I would hear their names again. Many people become uneasy discussing death, especially the loss of a child, so I didn’t expect to hear them except from close friends and family.
Reflecting back, I never would have predicted what would unfold in the following months and years. I hear all three of my children’s names every day. Sometimes, I speak their names; other times, friends or supporters mention them in conversation. Yet, what touches me most is when my surviving triplet, Jordan, softly calls out Lily and Jamie’s names. The fear that my angels would be forgotten has faded. Lily and Jamie were with us for such a brief time, but their legacy endures. My dear daughter, Jordan, embodies all three of them—a remarkable girl already making a significant impact on the world.
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In summary, naming a child, especially one born prematurely, can be an emotionally challenging experience compounded by grief and fear. However, it is crucial to remember that a name carries profound significance, representing not just an identity but also a legacy that can last a lifetime.
Keyphrase: Naming premature babies
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