I want to share the story of how Eve got her name.
The first thing I did after discovering I was pregnant in May 2011 was to begin making a list of potential names. My husband and I couldn't agree on any boy names (well, except Thor, but that was sort of a joke). We did, however, agree on Molly as a potential name for a girl. I also liked Brynn, and he suggested Eve.
In September we discovered that we were having a girl. I was overjoyed. While I would have been so happy with a boy, I desperately wanted (and want) daughters. And we had been given one!
But we did not progress any further in our name-choosing. We both felt that we couldn't name our little girl until we met her face to face.
And then everything fell apart -- late on Friday, November 18, we found out that our daughter had died. We went home, shocked. I didn't sleep. I lay in bed, all too awake to the fact that this world is full of suffering. That my world was now full of suffering.
When I could manage to feel, I felt afraid. Terrified. I was afraid to move, to touch my still-pregnant belly. The baby girl we had been dreaming of for months was dead. Dead inside my body.
It is a terrible thing to hold your dead child within you.
And then the next day, the hours stretched too-long before us until we were expected at the hospital. We tried to prepare, but how can you prepare for the unthinkable? We made sure our dogs had a home for the weekend, and we packed our suitcase. I vacuumed, and washed the dishes.
When we had done all that we could bear to do, my husband and I huddled together in the living room.
"What should we name her?" I asked.
My husband shook his head. We hadn't named our baby when she was alive. How could we name her now, waiting for the birth of her dead body? It seemed impossible.
I didn't want to name her Molly. It didn't seem right anymore. I think that a part of me wanted to "save" the name for our next daughter, who would hopefully live. Now I don't think I'll ever be able to use that name.
Finally I remembered that my husband had suggested the name Eve. It wasn't my favorite name of the few we had picked out, but I wanted him to have something to give our daughter. I had given her life, and a death bed. He could at least give her a name.
I asked him if he still liked the name Eve. He did. We didn't have the heart to wrestle over a middle name. And so her name is simple, and lovely -- Eve. Although it was not my favorite name at the time, I have fallen in love with it almost as much as I have fallen in love with its owner.
I found out not very long ago what Eve means. It means "life."
Even though she's dead, even though she died before she breathed, it is so right.
I think it's perfect.