[Note: The first several posts will be back-dated]
This month we discovered our baby’s gender and announced both that and his name to the world!
Luke Robert Furia
Jen loves photography, so we always knew we wanted to do some kind of photoshoot for finding out Alpaca Llama’s gender. There’s a million food-colored cakes out there, so we came up with a unique and (we thought) simple idea. Turns out it’s easy to visualize, but very, very hard to explain.
Start with two balloons, one blue and one pink, then have the ultrasound tech poke holes in the balloon that is NOT the baby’s gender. That way when you blow up the balloons simultaneously, only the one that IS the baby’s gender inflates. Easy, right? Even then we knew it was unconventional, so we tried to make it as simple as possible by pre-poking two sets of balloons and labeling one “boy” and one “girl”. Now all the tech had to was pick the right label. Easy… right?
And yet, when we described our plans to the ultrasound tech, she looked at us like we were explaining quantum physics.
“So I’m poking holes in the balloons?”
“No, we did that already.”
“So I’m inflating the balloons?”
“No, we’ll do that later.”
“So how do I know which ones are poked?”
“You don’t need to. You just pick boy or girl.”
“But they both have boy and girl.”
“No, they both have pink and blue. One is labeled boy and one is labeled girl.”
“Oh I see, but which ones have holes in them?”
After a few more times around the mulberry bush, we were reasonably confident we’d gotten through. That confidence began to wane as we waited in the lobby for the tech to put the right balloons in an envelope. How long should it take to pick boy or girl? Is five minutes too long? Ten? Finally, the tech emerged from the back room, proudly handed us the envelope, and ensured us that there was only one color inside.
I know shaking a baby is off-limits, but what about shaking an ultrasound tech?
By some miracle we managed to get things cleared up, and the photoshoot itself went perfectly. We sent out the pictures to family and friends, and they even showed up on the Pampers Facebook page.
Luke’s name was actually the result of a bet. Five years ago, before Jen and I were even engaged, we found ourselves discussing the merits of different baby names. I don’t know if this is normal for a dating couple, it just kinda happened. We were pretty sure about each other, and we both wanted kids at some point, so it just came up naturally. Anyway, I liked the name Luke, but was skeptical of the girl names she liked. After much debate, we agreed that if our first kid was a boy, then I would get full control of the name, and if it was a girl, Jen would have full control. There was much trash talking in the years between then and now, and I’m not gonna say I didn’t gloat just a little when we found out it’s a boy. Thankfully Jen likes the name Luke as well, though I like to think she would have honored the bet even if she hadn’t. I know I had no plans to welch on the deal!
Jen and I revealed Luke’s name right around the same time we revealed his gender. I know some people are big on keeping names a secret, but it was never much of a concern for us. Part of it was a desire to “claim” the name. We have a TON of friends having kids right now, and with that comes a deep paranoia that someone will “steal” our name. Telling everyone so early was our way of calling dibs.
I’ve always loved the name Luke, without a real clear reason why. It’s my favorite of the four gospels, so I guess that counts for something. It also just has a ring to it that is both strong and kind. My younger sisters will insist it’s because I’m a Star Wars fan. If that’s an influence at all it’s pretty low on the list, but they LOVE the idea of having a Jedi for a nephew, so I’ll let it stand (although they should maybe double check what happened to Luke’s aunt before getting too excited). Probably the biggest reason is that the name Luke is classic without being common. Everyone knows the name Luke, but not everyone knows a person named Luke. Robert is a much simpler explanation. Both our dads are named Robert (as well as my brother and a couple uncles), so it was a no-brainer to carry that on. I fully intend to insist to each Robert in our family that they are the true namesake of our son. Maybe we can get like a highlander situation going, I don’t know.