Per Marten

Twelve years ago, on a crisp, sunny December morning, the birth of our second child was imminent. I wondered aloud if I'd be able to love this baby as much as I loved my first. I pondered mothering two little people. I contemplated what to name this new person. (We never decided those "trivial" matters ahead of time!) And when, after my typically difficult labor process that culminated in a c-section, our baby entered the world, we called him Mats.

Yes, our second son, Mats, was born on December 18, 1997.

The nurses in the recovery room oohed and aahed over the wee one's lush, dark hair and nice coloring.

"What's his name?" they asked smilingly.

"Mats...?" I answered with a question mark. "I think."

They nodded their heads and asked, still in smiling tones, "You think? What's the other choice?"

"Well, how about Per?"

"Yes! That's perfect. Much better. Per sounds great!"

So Per it was and Per it is. Changing a baby's name based on the recovery room nurses' reactions may seem odd. But less odd than having everyone in the operating room, during surgery, vote between three name choices. More about that on Kai's next birthday. : )