Olivia's Name Story

Olivia Mae Anne Baker

"And though she be but little, she is fierce." -Shakespeare

Before we knew whether we were having a girl or a boy, Rob and I started talking about names for our baby. It was one of the first decisions we made, and we actually came to it quite quickly. We had a few requirements for a name:

1. Family significance. Each of our families had naming traditions, and we wanted to stick with that as much as we could.

2. Since we both work with kids, and have for years, some names were immediately off the table. 

3. Nothing too hard to spell or pronounce, both for the child and for future teachers, employers, etc.

4. Nothing too easy to make fun of - again, we've worked with kids for a long time. Their "creative abilities" when it comes to teasing know no bounds.

Given those rules, we started thinking and talking. Let's start with the first two names: Olivia Mae. Rob's paternal grandmother's name was Ollie Mae. She passed away when Rob was young, and his grandfather, "Pa," remarried the grandmother I know, Grandma Pat. We really liked the name Mae, and the spelling, but didn't want it for a first name. So, as a nod to Ollie Mae, we chose Olivia Mae to honor Rob's father's side of the family. For further significance, and a little tidbit, the digging I did shows that the first use of the name Olivia in English is attributed to Shakespeare, in "Twelfth Night," and may have been inspired by the masculine "Oliver" or from the Latin word for olive, "olivia." Although the quote above is not from Twelfth Night, she is certainly living up to it so far!

For her middle name, Anne, there are two significances, both stemming from my side of the family. First, my maternal grandmother, Dianne (pronounced Dee-Anne) Smith (married to become Dianne McMurren), had two sisters, Suzanne and Marianne. The tradition of including Anne in the name began with them, and continued with my mother, MaryAnne, and my sister and I - Meredith Anne and Sarah Anne. It was important to me to continue this tradition, as my maternal grandmother passed before I was born, and I wanted to honor my mother's family in this way. Additionally, my paternal grandmother, Annabelle Currie (married to become Annabelle Sprague), went by Ann. So with her second middle name, Olivia Mae Anne honors my side of the family in two ways.

Olivia has one first name, two middle names, and one last name, and we will make sure she knows the story of her names and her family. We tried hard to make sure her name followed all our rules, and I think we pulled it off. In any case, we're happy with it, and she seems to fit her name well already. 3 weeks in, we're so proud of our little lady!

A Letter to My Daughter: Our Journey to You!

My darling Olivia Mae Anne,

I have been starting this letter in my heart for years. God has always had you in His plan for me, and for your daddy. We have loved you for so long, even before we knew you would be ours. We have always known we wanted to be parents - it was one of the things that brought us together. But we also knew we wanted to be ready. We needed to prepare mentally, physically, and emotionally for all the changes you would bring. Is there ever a perfect time? No, but once you became a reality, we knew you would be the perfect fit for our little family.

Your daddy had his plan for you, and I had mine. Daddy said there was an order to things: Cat, Dog, Kid. I wanted to accomplish a few things before we tried to provide for you: a career, a healthy body, and adventures with just your dad that we could cherish together forever. We traveled. We bought a cat. We did silly, stupid things that we loved. We got jobs. We worked, and worked, and worked some more. We moved. We stayed up all night, we partied, and then we did it again. We got a dog. We had a wonderful life before you.

But something was missing in our hearts. We watched some of our friends have babies, and we loved them. And we got scared - they were so tiny and needy! Could we really do this? But the answer kept coming back to us: Yes, and we were meant to do so. We had our sequence: we had a cat, and a dog. We had done lots of things together: camping, playing, traveling, working, and settling. We were ready for a little life to enter ours. Someone we created together, who would be so loved and so wanted, and bring so much joy to our lives. So decided to try for a baby.

Something you should know about your father and I is that we are both driven and determined. When we put our minds to something, we expect it to happen, and we work to make it so, on our timeline, in our way. Well, having a baby isn't that way. We decided in September 2012 that we wanted a baby. We were so excited! Surely by October, I'd be pregnant, and by summer, we'd have a little nugget of our own, and I could take all summer to be with you, then take my leave in the fall. It would be perfect timing for a teacher. There is a saying that begins with the words, "Even the best laid plans..."

The first time it didn't happen, we were surprised, but we were both young, and hopeful, and continued on trying for you. Sometimes nature takes a while, we thought. We had months where we knew it wasn't going to happen. And times when we were so sure I was pregnant, that we would start talking baby names and looking for new apartments. But we only told a select few people of our plans. One thing we knew we couldn't endure was well-meaning friends and family members asking, "Are you pregnant yet?" So no one knew but 2 of my friends, and one of your dad's. And that turned out to be a wise decision as we continued on this adventure.

Months went by. I began to read everything I could get my hands on that gave advice on getting pregnant. I became obsessed. Several friends became pregnant on accident. I had to listen as they told me, some panicked, some thrilled. I endured baby showers where my own mother, unaware of what was going on for us, would coo and fawn over the pregnancies and babies of friends and family. She and other maternal figures in my life would hint and inquire, "When is it your turn? How long have you been married - isn't it time for a little baby?" It hurt so bad. It wasn't their fault, they didn't know, but it still hurt. I became bitter, angry, desperate. "How is this possible?!" I remember thinking to myself. "How can it be so easy for some people?" I would cry at every negative pregnancy test, month after month. Then it was a year. Still nothing.

All manner of terrifying thoughts went through my head: Could something be wrong with one of us? What if we couldn't get pregnant? Would I have to undergo fertility treatments? Did insurance even cover that? What if we can't afford them, or adoption fees? Surely God meant for us to be parents - we both had that longing. Was He testing us? Was there something God was trying to tell us that we just weren't seeing? I couldn't imagine my life without children, but I felt that my dream was slipping away from me. I needed you, little one, and I couldn't figure out how to make that happen.

I went to the doctor. I tried really hard not to cry as I told her how we'd been trying for a year - a whole year! - and how I was afraid something was wrong with me. She smiled. I'm sure she had heard it all before. She asked me about my age and my health, and some other related questions. A year isn't that long, she said, even though you've read online that you should come to me after that. Have you tried these methods? she asked. No, but... Try them, she said. Come back to me in 6 months if this doesn't work. That was November of 2013.

So we kept trying. I still cried every time the home test was negative. But we followed the doctor's instructions. We tried to relax. We went to the beach over Christmas, and came back energized and refreshed. We had some snow days this year - So many that the furlough days our district had planned for Spring were cancelled. I knitted and read books, and your dad took care of some things around the house, and got caught up on work. We had friends over who had to stay overnight because they got snowed in. Then the weather got beautifully sunny - cold, but sunny. So we went hiking on the weekends, all bundled up, talking about our plans for the future. We booked our camping trip to the Wallowas for August, for daddy's birthday, like we always do.

One Friday night, we had plans to go out for a friend's birthday. We were really close to finding out if I was pregnant, and wanted to play it safe, so I took a home test. Something strange happened - the little line to show pregnancy was very, very faint, but it was there. I read the directions again (as if I hadn't done so about 5000 times already). They were very explicit: if the line is not bright and solid, you're not pregnant. I sighed. Oh well, next month we try again, right? We went out. We had some drinks. And I had wine with dinner the next night. We went for a hike on Sunday, and I remember talking with your dad about what to do differently this next month.

By Tuesday, my period hadn't started. Which had happened countless times before, but that faint line was nagging at the back of my brain. What if? And here I had gone out and been reckless all weekend. People who know me will tell you I never wake up early, much less before my alarm. That Tuesday morning, I woke up at 5am - no alarm. My eyes popped open, and I went into the bathroom to take the last test in the box. "Don't get your hopes up," I told myself.

3 minutes later, there was no mistaking the solid, bright pink line on that test. "NO WAY," I thought. I woke up your dad. "Rob, Rob, you have to come in here, right now!" I was shaking him awake. "Did it snow again?" he asked, sleepily. I showed him the test. "I'm not dreaming, right? You see that too, don't you?" It was true. I was finally pregnant. You were officially a reality. I was so excited that day I could hardly function. I called the doctor and scheduled my first appointment. After a blood test, it was confirmed: We were going to have a baby!

We tried to keep it a secret. We ended up telling our closest friends and family at 6 weeks. At 10 weeks, the world knew. Your 10 week ultrasound was on my 28th birthday, March 6th. It was the best birthday present I could have asked for. You were kicking around and twitching, just a tiny little peanut. But I loved you. More than anything I've ever loved in my life. Your daddy held my hand as we watched you on the screen. He couldn't speak. I cried. I showed the pictures to anyone and everyone - yep, I'm that mom. I was convinced that I had started showing at 8 weeks. I'm pretty sure it was somewhere around 15 or 16 that the rest of the world noticed.

Our family had a hard spring: your grandpa Jeff (my dad) got hit by a car while riding his bike in California. So your first road trip out of Oregon was when I was 12 weeks pregnant. We spent a little over a week taking care of him. And when we got back, your grandma Cora (your dad's mom) got very sick, and we visited her in the hospital.

But things started to look up. After long searches, we found a house. The house you will come home to and grow up in. I finished the school year and spent the summer preparing for you. Your dad and I set up your bedroom. Your grandma MaryAnne and auntie Sarah painted the room for you, and your dad moved the heavy things around for me. For what may be the only time in your life, all your diapers and things were organized beautifully, meticulously, and then reorganized as more toys and clothes were added, and I felt stronger and stronger urges to "nest." Your room could not be perfect enough. Some days I would just go into your room and stand in the middle of it, imagining what our days would be like together once you were born.

We had baby showers - so many baby showers! One from my work friends, one on each side of the family, and one for books from my great-godmother. You were more than just showered with gifts - it was an Oregon downpour! Weeks before you were due, we had everything we needed and then some. We were so blessed.

This past summer was one of the hottest on record for Eugene, and it lasted well into October. Some days I would come home from work, fill the bath tub with cold water, and just sit there in the cold water. Other nights, I would go to bed hugging an ice pack. I did go back to work in September, teaching a new class of kids. They were wonderful, but the stresses of starting the school year proved to be too much for me - my blood pressure got too high, and my doctor put me on bed rest. I had to stay home from work, resting, and waiting for you. It was hard for me, but we did it. As long as I rested, my blood pressure stayed down, which meant you stayed safe.

Finally, when I reached 39 weeks pregnant, my doctor gave us a choice: induce or wait for you to come into the world naturally. Your dad and I talked it over, did some reading, and kept talking. We couldn't decide! I stayed up what felt like all night (little did I know, I'd find out soon what staying up all night would really mean). Then, when I went in for one more test the next day, my blood pressure was back up. I talked to my doctor again, asked her some questions, and we decided: we would start the induction process on Friday, September 26th.

I'll save your birth story for another time, but on the morning of Saturday, September 27th, you came into the world, beautiful, screaming, wiggling, and perfect. And a whole new journey began for daddy and me, and now you. We are so happy you're here, and now that you are, we can't imagine life without you. We love you, baby girl, and you are truly our little miracle. Welcome to the world, Olivia :)