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First Person

Dear little Saoirse Fife Nicholson-Smith-Craven. I'm sorry – and you're welcome – for that handle, writes Eve Nicholson-Smith

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It happened about a week after giving birth in April, 2016. I was lying in bed, sore from my C-section, barely able to walk by myself, and I was having a mini existential crisis about the name Ryan, my husband, and I had given our new daughter.

Saoirse Fife Nicholson-Smith-Craven.

Say it loud, say it proud. Or try to. It's pure vowel-powered confusion attempting to decipher her first name ("Seer-sha"), although once you've stumbled over that awkward hurdle, you are mercifully greeted by an easy to pronounce, if unusual, middle name.

But we've only just begun. So take a deep breath. Three. Last. Names. I know; obnoxious, cruel you might say, confusing and tedious to say the least. As I lay in bed, woefully reconsidering my baby's most important, seemingly indelible title, I wondered if it was too late to rush back to the hospital and change things up a bit. Just a couple of nips and tucks to the ol' name and it would be ready to (re)share with the world who would surely be grateful for a name that wouldn't cause either surprise or a roll of the eyes. Something alliterate maybe: Caroline Craven? Ah, so sweet and so simple. But I couldn't do it! As her parent and as the parent who had the biggest physical role in bringing her into this world, I wanted to be represented in her surname.

The complication, if you see it that way, is that my mom and dad chose to give me and my siblings each of their last names, so a simpler and more familiar double-barrelled last name wouldn't be an option for our child.

Growing up, my last name was a little out of the ordinary, but nothing I hadn't encountered before. Sometimes, there wouldn't be enough space on a government form, but hardly a real issue – it was merely a chance to rebel against those restrictive little squares telling me who to be. Think outside the box, they say. Well I did.

Another similarly trivial consequence was that at a certain age, some people assumed I was married before I was, presuming I had added my husband's name to mine. Mostly though, I was, and am, proud of my two last names. With this experience, it wasn't a difficult question when I considered what I wanted for our baby. It's too bad some people seem to think we've made a mistake.

Often, I'm sure, people are off-put simply because it is different from what they are used to. Some people might think we are burdening our daughter. I mean, think of her first day of school. She'll be the last to be able to spell her name. Or what if she has a lisp? Maybe we are burdening her!

Some women might suppose I judge them for not doing the same. I don't – do your thing! Make up a new name for your family. Take your husband's name. Take his grandma's name. Have him take yours. Whatever. Furthermore, I'm sure some men feel as if I am taking up space that is not mine to take. Well, sorry not sorry, bros.

I don't think these feelings are mean-spirited, I think they come from a place of not wanting to mess with one of the little pieces that builds up our worlds and makes them safe. Most children, at least in the Western patriarchal world, are given their father's last name. It's something you can count on, predict. Maybe not doing that seems like an affront to "how things go." I understand being uncomfortable with it, I sometimes feel the same way (see above). But I hope that whatever discomfort her name inspires, that it might rattle the metal boxes of reason in our minds and shift its contents slightly.

The feminist author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie contemplates the problem of what last name to give your children in her book, Dear Ijeawele, or A Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions. She suggests partners choose a new last name when they marry and both take this name for themselves as well as passing it on to their offspring. She points out that there are other ways of connecting your children to their ancestors. This is true and important, considering that despite her three last names, so many (mostly female) lineages are not represented.

Saoirse's extra-long surname is also one she won't likely add to a future partner's and give to her children (although my parents surely thought the same thing about me and my sisters). I trust she will find ways that suit her to honour and represent herself if she has children, whether it includes their last names or not. There is no perfect solution (other than matriarchy, perhaps?), so we need to be open to the ways individuals and couples choose to honour themselves, their ancestors and their children.

So Saoirse, I'm sorry and you're welcome. I'm sorry if constantly repeating and spelling your name is tiresome or embarrassing for you. And you're welcome for a name that represents the two people who brought you into this world and that ties you to our respective and now connected ancestors. And for the rest of you, please respect the strangeness and good luck sayin' it.

Eve Nicholson-Smith lives in London, Ont.