The first boy name we had picked out for Max was Forrest.
We still love the name Forrest BUT I've wanted to name a boy Max since I was in high school and it kept sneaking up on us.
In mid-February, we came up with Maxwell David.
Maxwell because it was a tricky name that would not be laid to rest.
Also because it fulfills Mr. C.'s lifelong dream of having a child named after the title of a Beatles song.
David because it's a family name three or four times over.
Also because it's Andrew's Dad's name and Max is due the day after his birthday.
(We're REALLY good present givers.)
I wanted to be fairly set on names when we found out the baby's gender, but I was really surprised when Max was a boy and really, really surprised when I watched him flip around on the monitor and he automatically became Max to me, like it had been his name all along.
He's not even born yet, and we can't imagine calling him anything else.
Mr. C. wants to name him Maxwell Danger David Chandler.
Sometimes he almost has me convinced because he says if I let him, I can name one of our future daughters Ruby.
Then I realize that if his middle name is danger, he'll probably be a wimpy kid.
But that's another story.)
Max was the most popular name we considered.
When I saw that it was listed as the sixty-something most popular name on multiple Top-100 lists for 2009, I cringed but decided that, since it wasn't in the top ten or twenty, it wasn't a big deal.
I didn't (and don't!) even know of anyone with a child named Max, so I figured we were safe.
He was not destined to be "Max C."
The past few weeks, though, I've had this (paraphrased) conversation too many times to count.
Friend: "What are you naming him?"
Me: "His name is Max."
Friend: "Really? My sister's boyfriend's cousin just had a boy and they named him Max or Maxwell or Maximus or something like that and he is really cute."
Word to the wise: I do not expect my child to be the only one with his name, but let me be the one to tell you that NO expectant or new mama wants to be told this. They're naming a child, not a pet, it's not like they haven't put a lot of thought and effort into it. I doubt anyone wants to give their baby a name so common that he'll be known as "Max C." until high school and then become "Max the nerd" or "Max the drummer" or "The cute Max" or "Max with the weird mother".
This morning, because I could not help myself, I decided to look up the projected top baby names for 2010.
How does a name jump up sixty slots in one year?
So, my dear Max who loves to kick my ribs, stretch, and give me heartburn, we may have ascribed you to a life of being "Max C.", for which I am sorry.
But then again I'm not.
Because we love your name.
And really, I think that's all that matters.
P.S. I'm also sorry that you have the same name as the dog in the Little Mermaid. At least he's a happy dog, right?
Funny, Funny picture here.