What's in a Name?

Naming one's baby is a big deal and it's a detail that's often glossed over in the hustling of baby preparation. When we were discussing names before John Isaac was born, I poured over blogs and thought back through my life of everyone who had made an impact on it, for better or worse.

There were some names that were eliminated from each of us right away for various reasons: names of people who had hurt us, names of those who carry negative recognition from everyone (Hitler, anyone?) and trendier names in Hollywood that seem more like places and objects than people (North, Apple, etc.).

Mike and I knew from the beginning that there was one name we'd definitely use: John. This name is one that spans generations on both sides of our family. Mike is a John. His first name is John, but he goes by his middle name, Michael. Both of our fathers are Johns and both of their fathers were Johns. AND both of their fathers were Johns. So, you see, we almost had to go with John. We had four generations counting on us!

The second name was a bit tougher for us. It wasn't until I was 18 weeks pregnant that the name began to emerge.

Mike and I went for John Isaac's 18-week anatomy scan. It was an exciting time and was the first time we had a more detailed glimpse of the hidden wonder developing inside of me. At the anatomy scan, the technician takes still pictures and measurements of all the major organs, the head and belly, and looks to make sure all hands, feet, fingers and toes are accounted for. After the pictures are taken, they are given to a doctor who translates the scans and interprets the results. The second step takes usually two to three days after the initial scan is done.

Mike and I had such a blast at the anatomy scan. It was amazing to see our precious baby moving around and to hear (and see) his heart beating. He looked beautiful and it didn't take expert eyes to see that.

A few days later we went to the doctor to have the results of the scan given to us. Our obstetrician told us that his measurements were right on track. His head and belly were measuring as they should. My measurements were equally on track and a healthy amount of amniotic fluid was in place. Awesome!! Then the doctor dropped some other news. There was a concern. The baby had 2-3 CPCs (choroid plexus cysts) in his brain.

Uh, what?? Time seemed to stand still as she explained the nature of the findings. CPCs, she said, could be benign and would likely disappear OR they could be indicators for other chromosome abnormalities. Of which the likeliness of our baby surviving outside the womb were in the 1-3% and IF it survived it wouldn't live but for a few days.

Uhhh...what???? The best course of action, she suggested, was to have a genetic test done. The test would help to rule out the chromosome abnormalities and give us peace of mind.

Early in our pregnancy journey, Mike and I had decided that I wouldn't get a genetic test. It seemed like an added expense when we knew that regardless of its results we would still carry our baby to term. We believe that every baby is a gift from God and we knew that if we had the test done and it concluded our baby had "issues" we would still want to carry it.

So, here we were at 18 weeks and being faced with the question again: did we want a genetic test done? This time the question was framed for us differently. If we had the test done and it came back with a high likeliness of our baby having a chromosome issue then it would alter how the baby may be delivered. For that reason, we decided to have the test done.

The test was easy enough- just a few blood samples were taken. The wait was the hard part. Ten days.

Ten days of wondering, questioning and pouring out prayers. Prayers filled with petitions for our baby and for us.

It was on the first or second night that the name Isaac emerged. In a state of prayer, I recalled the story of Abraham and Isaac in the Bible. It's a story that had stuck with me, but now that I was a parent, carrying a precious and innocent baby, the story was that much harder for me to read. I read over the verses and sobbed as I thought of Abraham climbing the mountain and facing what God had asked of him while he kept looking over at his sweet son. Did he see his son differently than any moment before then? Did Abraham notice the sparkle in Isaac's eye or hear his laugh like never before? Or perhaps he was remembering other moments in Isaac's life: his birth, his first giggle and his tenuous first steps.

Although our circumstance was not the exact same as Abraham's, it felt like Mike and I had been asked of God to trust Him. Give up our child and let Him have it. It felt like we were being asked to give up our Isaac.

So we did. The morning after my epiphany and time with God, I told Mike about it. I reminded him of Abraham's plight and the parallels I had drawn in our own waiting. From then on, it seemed that we prayed differently because the situation had been re-framed. God had us (all three of us) in His hands and He wanted to show us what he could do. He wanted us to trust Him. And we did.

Ten days later the results of the test were in: our child did NOT have the chromosome abnormalities that are often times associated with CPCs. He likely would have no permanent issues from the CPCs they had seen on the scan.

Mike and I were relieved and thankful. Our ram had been delivered. We would not have to sacrifice our Isaac; God had other plans.

After that, there was no better name than Isaac for our dear son. It would be a reminder of God's faithfulness and just a small way to thank Him for it.

So, there we go. Our sweet John Isaac has been given his name. Now comes the fun part: seeing what he does with it.