My name is Gillian. My parents named me Gillian and that is my name - but it wasn't always. When I was little I liked my name. No one else had the same name, I was special. There were loads of Sarah's, Caroline's, Rebecca's etc, but I was the only Gillian and that made me feel good. Then, one day when I was about 9 a new girl started our school and she was called Gillian Shaw. All of a sudden I wasn't special anymore - there were two of us. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get on with this "Gillian" - after all she had stolen my thunder. It turned out, sharing a name was the starting point for a good friendship. We had something in common and by joining up, somehow we didn't lose that special feeling we both got about feeling unique. Somehow it made it stronger.
Now, you may be thinking "what's the big deal, it is just someone else with the same name. There are loads of Gillian's about". There may well be lots of Gillian's about now, but back then as far as I knew I was the only one in the world, (until Gillian Shaw came along). Now, I agree, there are loads. There's famous actress Gillian Anderson, the Gillian that ran the art gallery next to the Post Office in Peneden Heath, Gillian the P.A. for a year at UKTV. The one who didn't drink. Anything. She didn't like the texture of liquid, (that's a whole other story right there!). There's "Dr" Gillian McKeith. There is the Gillian who sits on the 2nd floor of my office and always gets my messages when people get confused by there being two Gillian's in one building. And finally there is Jon's aunt Gillian. Loads of them about - but I still get a funny feeling when I hear the name being said out loud and it's not about me.
At the age of 11 Gillian Shaw and I finished that school and moved our separate ways. I was unique again - at my new school I returned to being the only one. But then, two years later, having both been selected for Grammar School we were destined to be back together. Two Gillian's in the same class again. However, this time, in the intervening years Gillian Shaw had metamorphosed into Gill Shaw. Brilliant, that makes things easy - she'll be Gill and I'll be Gillian. No chance of confusion there. Simples. However, that proved too complicated for people and somehow I started to get called Gill. It was the start of me losing my name. Most people don't mind when there name is shortened, in fact, some relish it. I, on the other hand, was not a big fan. I liked my name as it was.
This "Gill" phenomena was only one that occurred outside the family. At home, I was still Gillian, and I accepted that I was Gill elsewhere - although not once did I ever introduce myself as Gill. One day a girl from school phoned me at home. My mum answered the phone and this girl asked to speak to Gill. Straight away my mum replied "I'm sorry, no one of that name lives here you must have a wrong number" and she hung up. The moment she hung up she realised what had happened - the call was for me. She ran to apologise to me, just as my friend called back, confused. Even my dad once called me Gill. As soon as he did there was silence. It felt so wrong! I knew and luckily he knew it and it has never happened again.
Once I was at uni, it got worse. Almost everyone, apart from family, had stopped calling me Gillian and replaced it with Gill. I had almost completely lost my name and I wasn't happy about it. Even conversations with my friends explaining this dislike resulted in no change. They couldn't stop. However, there is a happy end to this story. Once I left uni I successfully reclaimed my name. I only get called Gill once in a blue moon these days. I'm back! and I've managed to stay back for 14 years now.
Now I know what you're thinking. (I'm good at this mind reading lark). You're thinking "why on earth is she rambling on about her name, This has got really boring now. What has this got to do with being a new mum or the adventures of Poppy? That is if you got this far into the blog and didn't stop reading half way through the history of my childhood. If you're still here, then thank you. I'll finally get to my point.
On Monday I took The Popster to my office and introduced her to some colleagues/friends. Something happened that got me to thinking about the importance of names and everything that goes with them. My baby girls name is Poppy. You may have noticed, I call her The Popster. However, I almost exclusively only call her The Popster when writing about her. It is extremely rare for me to say "The Popster" out loud. On Monday, in my office, numerous people called her The Popster. It sounded really weird!! Frankly, it sounded a little ridiculous. Why does a name look OK written down but sound weird out loud?
I just don't ever say it out loud. I hardly ever call her Poppy either though. Both her Dad and I have a variety of monikers for her. She is known as:
Poppy Poo
Poppity Pop
Poppity Poo Bear
Popsicle
Jon even calls her Popsi Cola. Now, I'm well aware we can't continue this forever. Calling a grown woman Poppity Poo Bear will be slightly embarrassing - for everyone involved. But when do we have to stop? Age 2, 5, 10, 16, 21? Who knows? I have a friend in her mid 30s who is called "Babs"by her parents. Her name is not Barbara so it isn't a shortening of her name - it's a shortening of baby. If that is still acceptable at the grand old age of 34 then maybe we can keep calling The Popster, Poppity Poo Bear? But I know one thing for sure - The Popster will largely remain a written name.
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