Names are important. I grew up with an obscure name that has now become quite common but I know it's been a journey for me to identify with it on and off for my entire life.

Kids today are flexing a new freedom to change and update their name as they choose; had it been an option in my young mind, I would have done it too but, it was unheard of. In fact, it was an insult to your family if you shunned your name and I must admit, when both my children began to toy with other names, I was offended.

I've struggled to understand why it offends me; is it because I'm saddened that they think so little of a name I toiled to give them? Am I jealous that they have the freedom to choose? Or, is it because I'm jealous of all the other parents around me whose kids aren't changing their names and I feel like I must be a bad parent to have raised a child to need to change it?

The questions I ask myself run deep and get really sticky and self-centred. And that leads me to believe that the problem of it all is ME, not them. As a parent, I want what’s best for my children and, whatever that is, I will find a way to support them, even when it means I have to change.

What’s in a name anyway? My name is famously known for capturing insects and small critters from the Neolithic era, as pictured above, but what's in it for me?

It was a painful name as a child as I was nicknamed nasty words that poked fun at my body size. (I was a size 16/18 in high school and still hover around that size today, give or take some inches as I age) I can’t say that I love my name but it seemed the least of my worries to change it. 

Finding my identity within it is still a process and sometimes I feel like the amber pictured with treasures inside yet to be discovered. All in all, my name is who I am and a big part of me. Perhaps my kids' experience will be different?

Embracing my name at 47,