My husband was drilling the monitor with eager eyes observing our future baby. “Hey, Doc, is it a boy?”, he asked. “Nope”, the doctor answered. “And who is it?” the surprise in his voice made me think I had married a complete idiot. “It’s a charming princess”, the doctor replied without even raising his eyebrows. “But we do not have the name!” And this was the point that nearly ended our marriage in the next three month.
For some strange reasons we had only considered male names being perfectly sure we would have a boy. Now driving back home with the idea of a daughter sinking into our minds we started looking at the options. “I want to name her after my mother”, my husband announced. “Kill me if you wish and I will die happily, but I will not let you call our daughter Blodween”. I hated the only thought of calling my little precious bundle of happiness Blod!
My husband gave me a glare, but the expression of my face was so determined that he decided not to insist. “Well, but I want something special. Let’s call her Eva after Eva Peron”. “Why not Madonna? She played Evita”, I was pure sarcasm. “Okay, let’s call her Majorca, we spent our honeymoon there”. “I didn’t know you love Bill Clinton and David Beckham so much,” I answered. “How come?”, he was slow at digesting my hints. “They called their children after places, so you can follow the example of your personal heroes”. “Oh, come on, what are your suggestions?” “Mary, she will be called Mary”. My husband was against it and said that it was the most commonplace name I could think of.
During next three month every conversation we had finished with one word “Mary”. Guess what’s our daughter’s name?