“Caoimhe”?

Pronounced KEE-va, or KWEE-va or KWEE-veh, meaning “gentle, beautiful, precious.” That’s who I thought she was. I wanted something Gaelic and meaningful, and I just could not wrap my fingers around the typing of it; I am not a native speaker of Gaelic, though I have a bajillion ancestors who were.

What to call her, instead? I thought of “Allégresse”, which is French for “elation.” As in, je suis rempli d’allégresse. (I am elated, literally filled with elation, or my cup runneth over.) I thought of that poem on the mosaic panel alongside the tracks at Dallas Union Station: nous bénirons le Créateur (we bless -- or praise -- the Creator). “Bénisse”?

I wanted a name full of love, and joy, and gratitude. One that reflected my love for my daughter and my amazement at the generosity, sacrifice, and consecration wrapped up in her gift. And one that I could type without thinking, or hint of pretentiousness.

And then, like all good things, it quietly slipped into my mind.

“Blessing”. Her name is Blessing.



And she’s home.