Many pregnant women give their babies a nickname in the womb. They’re often food-related like Peanut or Jelly Bean or Arugula. Our nickname was Senny, short for Senator Mortimer Gaffney, the name I’ve chosen for a future son.

It is a strong and unique name that inspires respect. No teacher would feel right chastising a kid named Senator. That’s the job of primary voters.

I first decided on this name in sixth grade when I saw the name Mortimer Zuckerman on the masthead of US News and World Report. It looked so distinguished like Senators used to be.

When we learned that our baby was a girl, her nickname switched to Senita. Not because girls can’t be elected as Senators, just because it would be ridiculous to name one that.

As an alternative, I briefly considered calling her Hillary Rodham Gaffney since it always gets a laugh, but common rules of decency call for keeping politics out of a woman’s womb.

Senny and Senita were never meant to be serious considerations, yet as Jenny’s pregnancy progressed we began forming emotional attachments to the names.

By the time our daughter was born it almost saddened me to call her by her proper name, which surprised me because it is a really good name.

I know it’s a good name for two reasons: first, it sounds like the name of a realtor in a mid-size market that’s on the upswing, and second because people immediately respond to it.

Response speed is the most accurate way to determine if a kid’s name is good. Immediate reactions mean it’s a hit since people aren’t filtering their comments.

A pause means they’re stalling to think of something diplomatic to say.

When the pause is joined with guttural noises like “hmm” or “huh” or “aaaah,” your kid is screwed.

Senator Mortimer Gaffney always got a guttural response.

Naming a child is important business; it took us a while to agree.

This is ironic because we readily agree on the names of our neighborhood animals. It was a no-brainer that the girl Rocky Raccoon brought home with him was named Roxanne.

Our groundhog is as clearly a Harry as the frog under our stairs is a Hopper. The snake by the firewood holder is unquestionably named Jake (after the wrestling icon).

I’ve met some people with amazingly unfortunate names like my former roommate Johnson Wong (yes, both his first and last name were euphemisms for male genitalia). After that, I had a landlord named Gay Johnson. The poor darling married into it.

Jenny and I tried hard to avoid a similar fate for our daughter (even as my dad weighed in with the horrible suggestion of Daphne Gaffney).

Jenny was particularly sensitive to acronyms, which are apparently a big deal in the south where monogramming is still considered an important life skill.

We almost gave our daughter the initials EGG, which was fine with me (I love eggs!) but a dealbreaker for Jenny.

We finally settled the issue in a very simple and time-tested way: by flipping through a baby book and choosing the first two names neither of us found objectionable.

It was the perfect fit for our family. Our daughter’s name is good and it is hers. So it falls on me to protect it until she’s able.

Since I write true stories about my life, I will continue incorporating my daughter into my work. I’ve already started with pieces like Daddy Karaoke and I Can’t Stop Comparing My Newborn Baby to a Cat.

But I’ve chosen not to use my daughter’s name or picture here just in case she someday finds the association embarrassing (highly unlikely, I know).

This decision makes for some clunky writing with generic references to “my daughter,” who I hope readers will come to know in a meaningful but distant way through my work.

In order to gracefully include my daughter’s personality without pre-defining her identity to you creepy Internet weirdos, I offer Senita in her place.

In future articles when you see Senita as her name, it isn’t real, but believe me when I say you can grow to love it just the same.

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