Baby Boy Hupp: What’s in a Name?

I wrote an earlier post about my son’s birth. I put his first baby picture in that post, but what I didn’t say in that post was that at the time of that first picture, the only name that baby had was “Baby Boy Hupp.” That’s how the hospital labeled his crib, and that’s how the photographer labeled the pictures I was given.

It took my husband and me three days to agree on a name for Baby Boy. We’d known this baby was coming for about seven months, though we didn’t know the gender. So we had to come up with two possible names. Despite the lengthy period in which to make a decision, we still had not yet landed on a boy’s name when he chose to come into the world. We had a girl’s name picked out, but not a boy’s name.

Unfortunately, we had a boy. (I say unfortunately only because we didn’t have a name ready. Secretly, I had wanted a boy for my first child, though I never said so to anyone.)

I was very picky about names. After all, I had suffered mightily because of my name growing up.

I had a good name in mind for a boy. I wanted to name the baby after his two grandfathers—Thomas and Alfred. This was a good and distinguished name, and it honored two good and distinguished men. I still like the sound of Thomas Alfred Hupp, though Tom Hupp is not as appealing.

My husband, who is a Junior, initially thought naming the baby Alfred Rector Hupp, III, made the most sense. But I’ve always thought a child should have his or her own name, not be a copycat of the preceding generation. I said if we were going to go preppy, we had to go preppy all the way and call the baby Trip. But Trip Hupp would not be a good name, so I vetoed this name suggestion.

So then my husband proposed Frost Rector. Both are old family names on his side.

Not only did I think my side of the family deserved some recognition, but I also worried about the teasing the poor kid would have to bear as he grew up—Frosty the Snowman, Jack Frost, . . . and I didn’t even want to think what grade school boys could do with Rector.

I vetoed Frost Rector.

It was a good thing I vetoed Frost Rector. I later recounted this story of naming our son to a group of work colleagues. When I got to the Frost Rector part, one woman thought the name was so funny she snorted Diet Coke out her nose. I still don’t see why my husband liked the name, but I’d bet if he had a grandson, he’d propose it again as a possibility.

So my husband and I were still arguing over names when Baby Boy arrived. We argued for three days longer, until the nurses got antsy and insisted I fill out the birth certificate. Then we compromised on James Robert, naming the baby after two of his great-grandfathers, one from each side of the family. Two other good and distinguished men.

I think the name worked. Our son has never really objected to it. We called him Jamie growing up, though he reverted to the more formal James when he reached high school.

But my husband and I learned our lesson. During the second pregnancy three years later, we still had the girl’s name in reserve. And we chose another boy’s name—Ryan Christopher, for no apparent reason, though Ryan is a family name on my side.

We had a girl that time, but Baby Boy Hupp (by then a toddler) wanted to call her Ryan Christopher. I vetoed that, and we used the girl’s name we had chosen before our son’s birth.

Baby Boy Hupp has a birthday this coming weekend. But he’s a long way from being a baby now. He towers over me, having inherited his height from his father, if not his name.

What problems have you had with names and nicknames?