No kidding. I'm not sure if this makes me a horrible mama or not.
Once upon a time when I kind of was hoping P. would turn out to be a boy, I thought of an awesome name. A strong and distinguished name. A full name that incorporated my dad's name as a middle name and a then-living relative's name as a second middle name because dual middle names is how we roll.
A name, of course, that got shelved because P. turned out to be P. and we picked out a new name complete with two middle names.
So there we were with this awesome boy's name when I found out I was having a boy. And since my pregnancy already had the drama of a possible Down syndrome diagnosis and we didn't even know if it would stick anyway since I had a preemie and a miscarriage under my belt, browsing through baby name books was not exactly high up on my list of to-dos. At the time, the less I even thought about pregnancy, the happier I was.
Babies need names, though, and there was already one up on that metaphorical shelf.
One day, even though I was unsure if I'd even end up with a baby, I pulled it down to try it on for size and it just seemed to stick. It gave P. a way to interact with my bulging belly without moping about the baby inside not being a girl. It gave the mister and me a point of reference to try imagining a future with a little boy when we were both a little scared to put our hearts out there. And it gave Bo a name with no maternal effort necessary on my part.
I'm curious how other mamas and papas, too, feel about the idea of recycling a name that was meant for one baby to name another. Do you think our choice was as weird as I assume people will think it is?