Today I spent some time with my father helping him translate my grandfather's (my mom's dad) autobiography. While doing this he told me lots and lots of stories about the family, which I absolutely love. While doing so, I got to asking him about the birth of me and my brother. I've asked my mother several times to tell me about those times, and although she does tell me things, it's never really as thorough or detailed as when my father tells stories. My father told me about her pregnancies and the births. I found out I was an average weight and came pretty much on time, but my brother was late and she had to be induced...and he was almost 10 pounds when born. Wowzers! I also asked him if she had any quirky cravings while pregnant. She didn't have the weird cravings that you hear of women always having (like ice cream with pickles, lol), but apparently she ate enough pizzas and watermelons to feed a small country. No wonder I love eating those things! lol jk, I don't love them THAT much.
After learning of more tidbits of that nature, I asked him why he and my mother decided to give me my name: Mehetabel. I was wondering this because no one (except for my friend, Alicia) calls me by that name. NO ONE. And I'd say 85% of my family doesn't even know that's my first name. Everyone in my family just knows me by my nickname, Metty. And then my friends call me by my middle name, Rahel. No one in my family (except for grandfather) calls me by that name either. But at least people call me by that name. With Mehetabel, only one person calls me by that.
A little history of the origin of the name. My name, Mehetabel and it's several variations, comes from the Bible (Genesis 36:39) and means 'God makes happy' or 'God does good' in Hebrew. It is basically mentioned in passing in a genealogy. Apparently it was a name that was fairly popular among Puritans during the 17th century, but by the 19th century it was very rarely a name given.
Growing up, I absolutely hated my name and would constantly be upset at my parents for giving me that name. I didn't like my name because:
1. It was really uncommon.
2. No one could ever pronounce it right, although it's not hard.
3. Kids would make fun of my name.
4. NO ONE ever called me by that name, so I had no connection to it.
Numbers 1-3 is what bothered me the most when I was younger, but I just realized today when I was talking to my father, another reason (and probably the biggest reason) why I didn't like it...and that's number 4. I really did not OWN my name. The only time I heard my first name out loud was either during roll call in class, when I went to the doctor's office, or when a telemarketer would call and ask for me all while completely butchering the pronunciation. Because of this, my name felt like a burden to me - like I was cursed with it. My dad did tell me that at the time of my mother's pregnancy, they liked the uniqueness of the name and what it meant, and had it set in their minds that if I was a girl I would get that name. (My father initially wanted to name me Amrote, meaning my beauty, but my mom opposed as there was already someone in the family with that name.) Apparently though, soon after I was born, my mom realized that she was tired of explaining the pronunciation and meaning of my name, that she started calling me Metty and it caught on with the rest of my family. I honestly can't recall a time when my parents addressed me by my first name.
Fast-forward about 18 years later, and I started to embrace my name and it's uniqueness. As I met people in college, I told some my first name and many loved it. This helped me appreciate the beauty of the name. Fast-forward a couple more years later, and I really started to love it and would have no problem telling people my name. And now, I feel like I own the name. It's mine and I love the fact that very few people on this earth have it. The funny thing is I never ever wanted to legally change my name, as my parents told me I could if I wanted to. I just felt like it would be a slap in my parents' face, and ironically I loved the fact that they took the time out to give me a meaningful name, and not just name me Ashley or something. No offense to all the Ashleys out there in the world! lol If I have children in the future, I would like to give them unique names, too...but of course, nothing TOO unique. lol
After learning of more tidbits of that nature, I asked him why he and my mother decided to give me my name: Mehetabel. I was wondering this because no one (except for my friend, Alicia) calls me by that name. NO ONE. And I'd say 85% of my family doesn't even know that's my first name. Everyone in my family just knows me by my nickname, Metty. And then my friends call me by my middle name, Rahel. No one in my family (except for grandfather) calls me by that name either. But at least people call me by that name. With Mehetabel, only one person calls me by that.
A little history of the origin of the name. My name, Mehetabel and it's several variations, comes from the Bible (Genesis 36:39) and means 'God makes happy' or 'God does good' in Hebrew. It is basically mentioned in passing in a genealogy. Apparently it was a name that was fairly popular among Puritans during the 17th century, but by the 19th century it was very rarely a name given.
Growing up, I absolutely hated my name and would constantly be upset at my parents for giving me that name. I didn't like my name because:
1. It was really uncommon.
2. No one could ever pronounce it right, although it's not hard.
3. Kids would make fun of my name.
4. NO ONE ever called me by that name, so I had no connection to it.
Numbers 1-3 is what bothered me the most when I was younger, but I just realized today when I was talking to my father, another reason (and probably the biggest reason) why I didn't like it...and that's number 4. I really did not OWN my name. The only time I heard my first name out loud was either during roll call in class, when I went to the doctor's office, or when a telemarketer would call and ask for me all while completely butchering the pronunciation. Because of this, my name felt like a burden to me - like I was cursed with it. My dad did tell me that at the time of my mother's pregnancy, they liked the uniqueness of the name and what it meant, and had it set in their minds that if I was a girl I would get that name. (My father initially wanted to name me Amrote, meaning my beauty, but my mom opposed as there was already someone in the family with that name.) Apparently though, soon after I was born, my mom realized that she was tired of explaining the pronunciation and meaning of my name, that she started calling me Metty and it caught on with the rest of my family. I honestly can't recall a time when my parents addressed me by my first name.
Fast-forward about 18 years later, and I started to embrace my name and it's uniqueness. As I met people in college, I told some my first name and many loved it. This helped me appreciate the beauty of the name. Fast-forward a couple more years later, and I really started to love it and would have no problem telling people my name. And now, I feel like I own the name. It's mine and I love the fact that very few people on this earth have it. The funny thing is I never ever wanted to legally change my name, as my parents told me I could if I wanted to. I just felt like it would be a slap in my parents' face, and ironically I loved the fact that they took the time out to give me a meaningful name, and not just name me Ashley or something. No offense to all the Ashleys out there in the world! lol If I have children in the future, I would like to give them unique names, too...but of course, nothing TOO unique. lol
Odd story: In 6th grade, a substitute teacher asked me if I was named after a cat. I had NO IDEA what the heck she was talking about (she was a weird lady, lol). A few years ago, I randomly remembered that incident and decided to look it up. She wasn't as crazy as I thought...there IS a cat with that name. In 1916, a newspaper columnist named Don Marquis would write a fictional social commentary piece six days a week, which was originally intended as a space filler. It was called archy and mehitabel. Archy was a cockroach and his best friend was Mehitabel, a cat. The two of them would share their daily adventures in a 'satiric commentary on daily life in the city during the 1910s and 1920s.' In 1957, there was even a short-lived Broadway musical based on them. WHODATHUNK?? lol
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