After we married, I kept an eye and ear out for names. I didn't really have many family names I was interested in using, and I didn't want my kids to have the same name as 5 other kids in the class.
I'm a librarian by profession. One day as I sat at my computer cataloging a title, I flipped open the book and saw the dedication page. To Claire and Sam. What lovely, real names. They struck a chord with me. I couldn't get those names out of my head. I needed a Claire and a Sam. But what if I didn't have a girl and a boy?
Later when I got pregnant the first time, I casually threw out Claire as a possible name. Nonchalantly. Just an idea. My husband said, "My grandmother's name was Clara." And I thought, "So's my dad's half-sister. I said CLAIRE." Over time it was settled. If the baby was a girl she'd be Claire. I'd already dreamed she was a girl with red hair, so I knew we were good.
So I got my Claire. But what about Sam?
Later when I got pregnant again, we decided to find out the sex. When they told me it was a boy, I thought "Sam".
Again that nonchalant suggestion. Even throwing out that it was a family name on my side -- temporary, pregnancy induced insanity making me forget that the family Samuel had been an incestuous, kidnapping murderer!
So he was Sam from the moment laying on the ultra sound exam table. Which was a good/bad thing when we nearly lost him. And a really good thing when he was born ridiculously healthy, but 5 weeks premature.
So that's how I got my Claire and Sam. I used to think that was kind of a pathetic story. I named my kids from the dedication page from a book I can't even remember the title or who wrote it. But now I think God was giving me a little message. Some hope that I was going to need down the road.
linking up with Writer's Workshop