THE BIG NAME THEFT

Mirella Hart - 6 Feb 15

We spent months pouring over the baby name books, saying them out loud to see how they sounded in real life, making sure they worked with our surname, that the initials didn’t spell anything rude, and even considered how the name would work when our little princess got married. It never, ever, occurred to me that in naming our child I would somehow lose my own name.

It happened so gradually it took me a while to notice this loss of my name. I was dutifully attending all the baby classes and playgroups, and slowly over the weeks I realised that I no longer had a name. When I met another mum, she would never ask me my name – only ever my child’s name and age (to be honest, I’m glad they don’t ask me my age!) but over the months this lack of name has really started to feel weird.

Let’s face it, I’ve had my name for a good few years and it’s kind of grown on me. I like my name, it’s part of my identity. One of the things I’ve always loved about my husband is that he actually uses my name, and not ‘babe’ or some other nondescript term.

My name is part of my professional life as well, and I can understand why some women choose not to take their husband’s name, as it is so fundamentally part of who you are that you don’t want to give that up for anyone, not even the ‘love of your life’.

Then suddenly this little bundle of new life arrives and you give up your name without a second thought, without even realising it. In the same way that when you have a baby you give up your pelvic floor, wearing nice clothes (and sometimes make-up) and as they get older, your ability to get showered, dressed or use the toilet without someone watching, so you seem to have to give up your name.

It starts in the maternity ward, when midwives refer to you simply as ‘mum.’ Even though your name is written quite clearly on your hospital notes. This mum-badge is also the default option at health clinics when you go for newborn check ups (‘Now if mum just puts the baby on the weighing scales…” etc).

And it only gets worse, as I’ve progressed from having no name at all, to being introduced as ‘S’s mum’ to other people’s children – What?? Since when am I just my children’s mum? My children mean the world to me, but I am most definitely still my own person, and not just someone’s mum.

Most days I laugh about it and see it as one of those quirks of being a parent, but it still niggles at me. It niggles because it is a sign of just how invisible, how morphed with my children’s identities, I’ve become. It might seem like a small thing, but taking someone’s name from them, which is what you do when you don’t care enough to ask their name or bother to remember it, is part of stripping them of their identity.

So from now on I want to make a pledge to always ask a mum her name first, and make a point of remembering it. We are all more than just our children’s mums – we are our own person, with a beautiful name that our own parents agonised over choosing for us, and we need to start giving one another back that respect of getting to know each other as a person, and not just as an extension of our children.

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Mirella Hart

A lawyer and mum to two little people, currently on maternity leave Mirella spends her days pondering how to get the children to nap more so that she can drink a mug of hot tea. She lives in Surrey with her husband.

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