My name is Megan.
Growing up, I hated my name. In
school, every class I was in had 2 to 3 girls with the same name as me. Normally, their names would be spelled the
same, however once in awhile there would be an added “H” or “a”. This was a rarity, however. I was even less enthused when a cousin was
born and named Megan, though with an added “h” for flair.
It wasn’t until middle school that my father told me how he and my mother had selected my name. He joked that I had come very close to being named “Davida”, a feminized version of his name. He then told me that he and my mom where looking through a baby name book when they came across the welsh name Megan. It means “little pearl” and is a variation of Margaret. My dad had a beloved aunt that was named Margaret and my name was chosen as a way to honor her memory. The revelation changed me. No longer could I hate a name that was given to me in memory of another. I realized my name had meaning and wasn’t just one more Megan.
My name is not unique. Many share it. However, the origin of my name is unique. The reasons my parents chose my name is unique to me and that is what makes a name special. It’s not the name it’s self, but the story behind the name. Whether it’s sad, happy, or inspiring, the history and story behind a name adds the spark and distinctiveness that makes everyone different.
