Corey and I hopped on to a baby name website and began our search for the title that would associate our son for the rest of his life. (Or at least until he got tired of it and called himself Snow or something.) I suggested that we look up the name that has the meaning of "Surprise!" or something similar. Because we did not know the sex of our son, he was a surprise. We didn't know we were pregnant, surprise! We didn't know I was in labor and...surprise!!! Everything about him was so shocking and unexpected, I wanted a name that reflected that. None existed, in any language, at least, not on this particular website of a million names from around the world.
So we moved on. We looked at different suggestions we had, Adam being one of them. One of the meanings associated with the Hebrew name Adam means, "Man, formed from the Earth." We also looked up Stephen, Phillip (a family name) and Peter. When we came to Peter, one of the meanings was, "Rock". Then next to it were other names from other languages that also meant "Rock". One of these was the Gaelic word for rock, Carrick.
"How about Carrick?" Corey asked. My husband is a little more than a quarter Irish, so it honored the family heritage as well as spoke of my son's solidness. Even though he had been born a preemie, he was quite a go-getter. He was actually crying when he came out. He kicked his umbilical line out twice, as though he didn't want it. So, something that sounded tough, solid, and here to stay was a good fit for my son. It takes a lot of effort to crack a rock, and my son wasn't giving up. He was already improving since they had received him last night. I thought Carrick might just be the name we give our son.
"I like that. Let's put that on the discussion table," I replied. I toyed with the spelling a little bit. Did I like it the way it was spelled on the website, or could I also spell it, Caerick? When I looked at it on the paper, I didn't really like it. So I went back to the original spelling.
After a few more names, we went back to Carrick. We took that name to the nurse when we visited our son together that night.
"We like the name Carrick, but we're not for sure that's what we want to name him," Corey told the nurse.
"Take your time. You're not locked into it. We'll go ahead and make up a name sign for over his isolet and you can see if you like it."
We spent a couple hours there, watching him sleep. Holding him for the 15 minutes we were allowed at that very tender, early stage in his life outside the womb. I pumped while I was there. Only made enough for him to get through the night. I would have to come back with more around 6 a.m.
So, at 6 in the morning, the next day, I took the free shuttle from the family house to the hospital. It was only across the street, but Flagstaff in late January at 6 a.m. is pretty darn cold. I took my little half-filled bottle of breast milk to the NICU. I was pondering the names we had come up with to see if we liked any of them better. As we arrived at the NICU door, a thought occurred to me. "If we name him Carrick Adam, his name would literally mean , 'Rock Man, formed from the Earth.'
As I sat in the glider, cradling my son in my arms, feeding him with a syringe, I looked at him and I remembered back to when I was pregnant. I used to take these walks that took me up a hill to the playground and school yard in our neighborhood. The vista of Sedona from there was unparalleled. You could see the craggy red rocks giving way to lush green desert shrubbery. It looked like Ireland with a southwest splash of red. Every time I took that walk as an expectant mother, I imagined a giant face of a baby shadowed against the rocks. Like the spirit of this child was created within these mystical ancient monuments. As I looked down into the sleeping face of my son, I knew that this was that child. He was my rock man. My rock child, coming out to me from the Earth. What a blessing he was, my little Carrick Adam.
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