For most of my life I’ve not particularly liked my name. It’s an incredibly common name, especially in my generation. In almost every class or extracurricular I was ever in, there was at least one other Stephanie in the class. I loved that I was named after my dad’s brother, my Uncle Steve, who passed away before I was born, but with such a common name – it left me feeling rather un-special, un-unique sometimes.

I know it’s just a name, but it’s something that’s stuck with me. Sometimes I don’t feel like it even really belongs to me. It’s just a word assigned to me to differentiate me from another. If you think about it – oftentimes a baby’s name is selected before mom and dad ever even meet the little one. The name given to a child can, in truth, say more about the parents or family than it does the person it actually belongs to. It’s a weird thing, I know – and I’m sure not many have felt this way. But this is the weird way my brain works. haha

However… there is one time that my name feels inexplicably mine. That is when Ryan says my name. It could be simply in passing in the morning. It could be at the end of a long day. It could just be hearing him talking to me on the phone. The way he says my name – the love that’s behind his words and the way that whole thought and feeling is directed towards me – leaves me with absolutely no question that my name belongs to me just as I belong to him.

This little quote block sums up my thoughts perfectly. So glad for these moments to write and share with all of you!