A fellow blogger friend just told us the story of how they chose their children’s names. She then asked us how we got our names. You know, what great, wonderful relative we were named after. What amazing Biblical character we share a name with. What awe inspiring historical figure we got to associate with. So here’s the story of my name . . . . .
My name is Cheri Dawn. My name was supposed to be Crystal Darline. I don’t know where Crystal came from, but Darline (pronounced “Darlene”) is my mom and her mom’s middle name.
Back in the day when I was born, dads weren’t allowed in the delivery room. My mom had just been through a horrible 36 hour labor ordeal with me. She was on whatever drugs they gave you 39 1/2 years ago. And they gave her a lot because she ended up hallucinating. And then we both almost died while she was delivering me. To make matters even worse, there was an earthquake right after all 9 pounds and 10 ounces of me came screaming into the world. Mom says all she remembers from that was the doctor yelling, “Secure the baby. Secure the baby!”
Why they chose the first few minutes after my dramatic birth to push my mom for a name is beyond me. She says she just remembers saying, “Cheri Dawn. C-H-E-R-I Dawn.”
Needless to say, my dad was a bit perplexed when the nurse came out and told him, “Mr. Blanton, would you like to meet your new daughter, Cheri Dawn?” He was so happy my mom and I were fine that he didn’t really think about the name. He says he was shocked and asked the nurse if she was sure she was talking to the right dad. She was.
So there ya go. My name was born out of a near-death-experience-drug-induced-survived-an-Alaskan-earthquake hallucination. And that’s got to be the only reason why she chose such a pain in the butt way to spell my first name. Och, my name. As most of you know . . . . . don’t even get me started! I hope when I get to heaven Jesus takes pity on me and renames me something like Lisa or Angela.