Monday, February 27, 2012

What's In A Name?

Growing up, I can not say I loved my name...but, it grew on me.

Folklore that has taken root in that cozy spot where memories reside, is my father picked my name. Like most expecting parents, my adoptive parents created a list of names. Some were family names (Mary, Catherine, Ann) and some were unique to their generation (Emily, Cheryl). My mother really wanted to name me Emily, but when they ran down the list after I was placed it seemed obvious to my father, "Just look at her...she is Cheryl Ann." My mother agreed and I became one of four Cheryl Ann Adams' in my home town.

The first line of my non-identifying information reads,

Cheryl, as her birth mother named her, was born on February 6, 1970...

I have read this document over and over again and it wasn't until I acquired my original birth record seven years later that I actually understood that my name has always been  


Sitting along side my Dad in the emergency room, I questioned him again why they named me Cheryl. As my parents age, stories come to life in a different less embellished way. He told me that my mother chose the name. Later, my mother retold the story of the list and why I wasn't named Mary, Catherine, or Ann. 

"Did I have a name when I was placed with you?" (What did they call me for the 2 months before I was placed?)

"Yes." (but she could not recall the name) It wasn't Cheryl. She was sure of that. 

"My birth mother also named me Cheryl. Are you sure you didn't know?"

"I am ( with a gentle smile) That is interesting..."

Without a doubt, I am a Cheryl.

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