a name

We had just found out you were a boy. Sitting in the doctors office waiting for her to come in, your dad and I sat together grinning from ear to ear, daydreaming about you and your life, looking at your ultrasound pictures (and your proudly displayed parts!). Amongst the anxious and excited glances and smiles, your dad turned to me and said, "Uriah". Nothing more, nothing less. And I just knew. That was your name. Why had I wasted so much time looking up other names? Why hadn't I thought of that before? It's not that that's what I wanted to name you, that already was your name.
The doctor came in not too long after and we got all caught up in the appointment... After a stop at the store for a maple bar (your favorite treat!) we made it home and made our phone calls! We were so excited to tell Nana and Papa and Grandma and Grandpa you were a boy! All your aunts and uncles, too. Texting pictures and using a lot of exclamation points...!! Everyone is so excited to meet you; you are already so loved :)
Later that night I sat down as your dad was studying and started going through my list of baby names. I wasn't in a hurry to choose your name, I wanted it to be perfect and I wanted to love it as much as I already love you, but now that we knew you were a boy everything was so much more real! I added 'Uriah' to the long list of favorites and started looking up more names. I found a few more that I liked and started bouncing ideas off family. Every name I threw out there that got shot down, I crossed off my list. I usually agreed with whatever reason they had for not liking it and knew that there were names on the list I liked more, anyway. And then 'Uriah' got shot down. But no matter how hard I tried to agree with them, I couldn't cross it off my list. It just stuck with me. Over the next week I had narrowed it down to two names, 'Noah' and 'Uriah'. And, truthfully, I spent all that week trying not to like 'Uriah'. For so long I had loved the name 'Noah', I hadn't quite gotten used to 'Uriah' yet, and not everyone had responded well to it when I said it was an option. So I started making excuses. "I can't picture calling a baby Uriah, just an adult", or "Everyone else said he'd get teased at school"...  Your dad wasn't buying it, he still loved it. And despite my attempts, so did I. (I'll deny it if you tell him this, but he's the smarter one and he's usually right about this kind of stuff.)
Then, last night (Thursday, October 4, 2012, the day I completed my 20th week of pregnancy), as your dad and I lay down for bed, unbeknownst to me, he got out his phone to look up baby names and said a little prayer, that God would give us your name. That if he was to stumble upon your name that night, that God would let it be known to us that that was your name. As he starts reading off names I laid there and closed my eyes. And when I did, I saw a little boy. I saw you, standing by a river. You had white blonde hair that curled at the nape of your neck and you were tossing rocks into the river. You were wearing a candy apple red coat, with plaid liner in the hood, and blue jeans with the cutest slip on shoes! You must have been about three years old, and I was videotaping you. And in this vision I'm calling out your name, every name... "Jude!" "Everett!" "Lucas!" "Noah!" But you weren't turing around. And then I said, "Uriah!", and you turned around... And you looked just like your daddy... And you smiled at me, briefly, then turned back around to toss another rock in the river...
And then the tears came. Partly because I was so in love and excited and partly because I'm 20 something weeks pregnant and I do that a lot, but I knew. Amongst my tears I said to your dad, "His name is Uriah", and we both fell into a laughing, crying fit over giving our baby his name. Your name.
I tried, then, picturing you in my arms as a baby, and calling you 'Noah', but it just didn't fit. It wasn't your name. It may be your little brother's name someday, but it's not your name.

Your name is Uriah Michael Wall, and we love you.

Uriah means 'God is my light', and we hope for you that he is. Michael means 'A gift from God', which you certainly are. (It's also your Papa Ryan's name, your Uncle Jonathan's middle name, and your Great Grandpa Wall's middle name!) And Wall is a name you share with us, something you will always have to remind you of home.