My Name Is My Name

Several months ago I received a thank you note in the mail. The envelope was addressed to Mrs. Mark Romer. Immediately I had a familiar nauseous pit in my stomach. This well-meaning person (and for the record, hand written thank you notes are priceless) probably thought she was correct in formally identifying me by my husband, but I had a very different take. Mrs. Mark Romer? Quite frankly, I don’t know, nor have I ever known who that is. Last time I checked, I am a very different person than my husband. He likes beans and I like raspberry tarts oozing with custard. He loves to play in the dirt and I love to curl up with a good book. We are not the same person for a variety of reasons, some more obvious than others. So, to be identified by his name has never set right by me.

Over 40 years ago when I married, I struggled with taking my husband’s name. I love my maiden name. The surname Grogan was bestowed upon me at birth and I loved being Anne Grogan. It encapsules the journey of me finding my footing in life and the deep connection I have with my given family. Yet, at the age of 22, I wasn’t quite willing to defy cultural expectations of marriage. I embraced my new name, Anne Marie Romer. All seemed good until people cavalierly circumvented the Anne Marie, and I became the Mrs. Mark. I mean, wasn’t changing my last name enough?

You might think I’m making a big deal about a name, but a name embodies so much. Naming a new puppy coexists with unbound love and joy in wagging little tails. Naming an outreach project communicates the mission. The first step towards healing is to name the source of angst. As an author, I spent months trying on different titles for my book. It’s naming needed to be right and reflective of the essence of my writing. And we haven’t even broached the subject of spelling Anne with an E. Not that every Ann needs an E, but if you have an E, it’s important.

Naming a child might be the most poignant. My son and his wife just had a little girl. Her name is Natalie Heidi for reasons and intentions born from love and purpose. I can’t even imagine if Natalie Heidi Romer someday became Mrs. “Husband.” Oh my, I’m getting indigestion again.

I know that addressing envelopes to a married woman by her husband’s name is perhaps a generational thing. My dear mother-in-law (who I adored) was perhaps the worst. I know she loved me for who I was, but when it came to the envelope, I was Mrs. Mark. At the same time, I know and admire women who circumvented the whole issue and kept their maiden names once married. For them, it seemed so simple to just flow with who you’ve always been with who you’ve chosen to be with. Separate names, one dishwasher. It works. To boot, my niece and her husband share a hyphenated combination of both last names. The world is shifting.

For the record, I am really ok with my name. Anne Marie Romer is great. I think my husband would be fine with an envelope addressed to Mr. Anne; but to date, it just hasn’t happened. In the meantime, I’ll relish in those times when I hear from across the house, “Hey Grogan!” Yes, that would be my husband calling me. To him, I will never be Mrs. Mark, and that’s a very good thing.