For this post, I yield the floor to my mom, who read the following letter to Abby at her baby naming, much like she did for me at my bris.
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Dear Abby,
Hi Sweet Girl. Welcome to the
world!
When I started thinking about your baby naming, I found it impossible
not to think about your big brother Jonah’s bris 3 years ago... Same summer-y season, same setting – family and friends gathered right
here on 12th Street. (only now, in even more cramped quarters)
And yet, so much has changed. Your mommy and daddy have, we hope, grown
as parents and are a bit more chill this time around (not that we remember much
from that fourth- trimester haze), We've experienced the sheer joy that
comes from watching your insatiably curious and wildly exuberant big brother explore
the wonders of the world.
And we’ve also lived through some of the saddest moments of our lives, losing your beloved Grandpa Abe earlier this year, so suddenly
and unexpectedly... or, as he loved to call himself, your great North American
Grandpa (inspired by a visit with your brother to the Memphis Zoo).
Which brings me to the biggest difference between your baby
naming and your brother's bris… not just in terms of Grandpa Abe’s physical absence –
but the difference in significance behind these two events.
As your daddy can attest, I had a hard time making sense of the bris, because it seemed to me, frankly,
a bit of a barbaric ritual, one people engaged in just because they always have.
And yet, because it represented such communal and collective act, we (or at
least I), sort of shrugged off the angst and rolled with it. (In hindsight, judging
by your brother’s gorgeous shmeckle, I’m glad we did…)
Your baby naming, on the other hand, is far more personal. And deeply relevant to us as individuals and
as a family right now.
And yet at one time, I had misgivings about this Jewish custom as well
– at least among we Ashkenazi types. In the abstract, this idea of naming
people after the dead has always felt kind of morbid and lachrymose to me, if
not just plain old Debbie Downer.
But being on the other side of things now, there’s something
remarkably healing and comforting about this opportunity, this chance to honor
Grandpa Abe’s legacy by giving you his namesake, allowing it to live again in
new form.
We love your name,
Abby, for so many reasons. First, for the obvious: on the surface, it just screams Abe –
both spoken and in print. Add to that the meaning of the Hebrew name Avigail, 'a father’s joy'- and there
really was no choice. It was a no-brainer. We can think of no better, more
joyful tribute to my father Abe, and, of course, to your own father David.
As for Emma, part nod to Grandpa Abe’s passions as a British historian
and Victorianist. And note the
monogram! (hint for those of you looking to get Abby, a Brooklyn babe with Southern blood, an LL Bean canvas tote
circa 1986 or monogrammed bathrobe …)
In Hebrew, Emma best translates to
Na’ama, which signifies a number of
attributes, including a connection to roots, a strong sense of justice and open
mindedness, an ability to verbally express oneself and to develop a lively imagination.
The name also describes someone who likes to be around people– all characteristics
embodied not only by your Grandpa Abe, but by your Zede Gary, your Buba Sonia, and
your Bobpie Reva. Of course, Na’ama can also signify stubbornness. Go figure. (We
won’t attribute this trait to any relative in particular, though you could probably take
your pick and be right…)
Your Grandpa Abe loved 'little goils,' as he called them. He didn’t know we were having a goil before
he passed away, but he did know he
was going to be a grandpa again. And we
take enormous comfort in that.
As your daddy knows, there was a time back in January and February – even
March and April — that I couldn’t imagine ever feeling joy again. As I pushed you out not even a week ago — and
you did come flying out in most dramatic fashion - emotions were intensely at
play. Sure, there was real, immediate grief — and absence. But there was also overwhelming
joy. And presence.
Abby, you are, indeed, a father’s joy… your father’s joy, my
father’s joy, your grandparents' joy... After months of sadness and grief, we're truly overjoyed to have you in our lives.
Love,
Your Mommy, Daddy and big brother Jonah
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