It was more than two weeks past my due date, and I still hadn’t given birth. The doctor said natural delivery might be too difficult, and waiting any longer could be dangerous because the umbilical cord might wrap around the baby. So, I had a C-section. Our baby was the heaviest newborn in the hospital that week.
A nurse asked us for the baby’s name to fill out the birth certificate. I was caught off guard and looked at my husband. He hadn’t said a word before, but now he said he already had a name in mind:
“How about ‘Dain (茶仁)’?”
It was a calm and thoughtful name, with hints of both Buddhism and Confucianism. I liked it. But before the due date, my father-in-law had suggested the name “Hoover.” I didn’t like it.
“Hoover? That sounds so old and outdated.”
My father-in-law’s name was Harry. The eldest granddaughter was Helen, and the oldest grandson was Henry. Now our son was supposed to be Hoover. I wondered if he just liked names starting with H. Maybe he wanted all his grandchildren to have H-names. I didn’t want to ignore his wish completely, so we gave Hoover as the baby’s middle name. As he grew older, our son didn’t like the name Hoover either.
My husband’s older brother’s name is “Sik (植),” my husband is “Il (逸),” his younger brother is “Joon (俊),” the sister is “Hwa (花),” and the youngest is “Won (園).” All are one-syllable names in Korean. Their parents chose the names to represent a garden filled with flowers, wise people, and peace. My husband remembers a distant relative once saying, “Why don’t you use proper generational characters? What kind of names are these?”
Not long ago, our son traveled to Taiwan, Japan, and then Korea. When he was born, we weren’t U.S. citizens yet, so he has dual citizenship. We were worried that he might be forced to serve in the Korean military. We asked the consulate, but their answers were unclear and confusing. Our son said,
“Don’t worry. If I have to join, I’ll just serve as an officer and come back. It’ll be fine.”
He was excited to go.
After many struggles as immigrants, my husband and I have finally found some peace in life. We wanted our children to see the world with gratitude. Starting at age 14, we sent our son to volunteer in countries that were struggling. Each time he came back, he said,
“Mom, I’m so lucky.”
He said it was a blessing to be born as a man in one of the world’s richest, most developed cities and to get an education here. So even if he has to serve in Korea, it’s not the worst thing.
At Incheon Airport, during departure inspection, an older officer looked at his passport, saw the name “Hoover,” and laughed out loud before stamping it with a big smile.
“Mom, I like the name Hoover now,” my son told me.
It's not easy to come up with a Korean name that sounds like an easy-to-pronounce and appealing American name.