And his name shall be called …

Things have been flying fast and furious around here for the past few days. There are lots of big changes around the corner for me and Tom.

(If all goes as planned, I’ll be sharing some exciting news next week, so be sure to come back for the update!) In fact, it’s been so busy around here that until today I hadn’t sat down long enough to realize that Baby Palmer’s arrival is just around the corner—10 weeks and counting!

For those who have been following this blog, you might recall that Tom and I hadn’t yet picked a name for our bouncing bundle of joy. I am happy to report that has changed. This past week, we settled on a name for the little guy, and I can’t wait to share it with you.

But, I’m not going to spill the beans just yet. Telling you the name before I tell you the story would be too much like letting you have dessert before you eat your dinner. And, as a mom-in-training, you know that’s just not allowed.
It all started a few weeks ago as I was reading through my Bible. As I’ve shared before, Tom and I are both Christians with a strong faith in God. As such, it was important to us that our little boy’s name be one of significance—one that we felt was providentially inspired.

While reading through Genesis, a name stuck out to me that I just couldn’t shake. For a few weeks, it came to mind morning, noon and night. It wasn’t a name I would have picked on my own, and I wanted to be sure it was “the one.” So, I prayed for confirmation.

Not long after, I was having dinner with a girlfriend from my church. As we were leaving, she asked if we had picked a name yet. I told her there was one that had been on my mind but that until I talked to Tom, I was keeping it on the DL. I jokingly told her to let me know if she had any divine inspiration for a name. She looked down, touched my belly and out popped the very name I had been thinking of for weeks!

What are the odds? I figured they weren’t too high. Still, I wasn’t sold yet. The name had to have Tom’s stamp of approval, but I was determined not to tell him the name. He would have to come up with it on his own. As I did before, I prayed, specifically asking that when I brought up the subject of names, it would be the very first name from Tom’s lips.

It was a few days until the timing seemed right to bring up the topic. Over a lunch of hot dogs and frozen yogurt at Costco, I mentioned as casually as I could that that we might want to settle on a name soon. I knew that out of the millions of names in the world it wasn’t terribly likely he’d pick “the name” at random. Plus, I wasn’t even sure he’d take the question seriously. (His sense of humor has kept names like Billy Bob and Deshaquan in the mix for months.) Fortunately, the butterflies-in-my-stomach feeling only lasted a few seconds as I waited to hear his response. Almost immediately, he said a name. But, it wasn’t just any name. It was THE name … Jacob! I relayed to him all that had led up to that moment, and we agreed that from then on Baby Palmer was to be called Jacob.

Could the whole thing have been a coincidence? Some may say so, but if I were a betting woman, I wouldn’t take those odds. Whatever your background of faith, I think it’s safe to say that “Jacob Palmer” has a pretty nice ring to it. Anyone who doesn’t agree can take it up with the Man Upstairs, as I’ll always be convinced He’s the one that picked it.