No matter the name, there is an opinion. There is always something more suited and most often declared better. Mikka's name was no exception. I wanted it to be part Russian, part American and part perfect. It needed to be her, even before we met her. It needed to have meaning but to also evoke the right emotion, suited for the appropriate time.
Coincidentally, I remember both days. It began after the ultra sound, when I finally made the anticipated call to my family and told them that indeed, it was going to be a girl. My younger sister, who seemed most interested in my pregnancy told me that her name choice was nothing more then perfect. Not too certain about the name, I shrugged "Mikaela" off until a couple weeks later when Jenny came home from school.
Mommy, she said. I know our baby's name. It needs to be "Mikaela".
A little shocked, I wondered if she had somehow overheard the last conversation with my sister. But from the look on her face I knew that her excitement could not have been faked, so I told her that it was a nice name and that we would consider it. Of course, she beamed happily at my response.
My dad came to visit us not too long after and bringing with him, his list of opinions. Unsatisfied with his proposals, I somehow stumbled upon a Russian site and with it, a short list of 10. I think it might have been a modern interpretation of some Traditional Russian names and with only a few options, "Mikka" was one of them. But even more then the name, I liked the definition the was worded so plainly beside it. God's Child.
Although the pieces fell together by themselves, it took a little more time for me to connect the dots and two weeks later it finally hit me that both the names could be one. Mikka-yla.
I ran the idea by with "Genius" and he loved it, but not at all for the reasons I thought, or even the reasons I have given. By far, the name won him over because of the first three letters. Meek.
That was that. Hope.
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