My parents were told that I would be a New Years baby. The original due date my mom was given was January 1st. My birthday is March 12th. Those last two months must have been hell for her. This was in 1975. There were no ultrasounds. Now-a-days they have you wear a lead apron during x-rays if there is even the possibility of you being pregnant. Back then they gave my mom an x-ray to check how I was doing in there.
She was brought in for induction, twice, and nothing happened. She described it to me, how anxious she was, how she was watching the other woman who was sharing the room with her get the pitocin drip and almost immediately go into contractions while NOTHING happened with her. Eventually they decided that she needed a c-section. So I was a scheduled cesarean birth. I was born on a Wednesday, as were both my brother and sister, because that was the day our family doctor worked at the hospital.
My name is Deanna Rose. I’ve always been told that my mom’s father, my Pip, named me. He named me Deanna, after the actress/singer Deanna Durbin. My Pip’s mother, my great grandmother was named Rose. My dad’s mother is also named Rose. I’ve been told that together my name means “Bright Love”, and that’s why my Pip picked it.
When pregnant with my second child and obsessing over what to call her, it finally occurred to me that the fact that my grandfather named me is a little odd. I called my mom and asked her why. She told me that her and my father could not agree on a name. That I was two days old and still they couldn’t agree. My Pip made the suggestion and they both liked it and went with it. Apparently if it had been up to my mom I would have been named either Audrey or Genevieve. It’s a little strange because Genevieve just happens to be the name of my second daughter and we had already decided on this before I heard this story from my mum.