In the early days of our engagement, one of my favorite ways to tease my husband was to come up with new last names we could take when we got married.
I would joke that rather than taking his last name, we could both go through the identity change together. We could start fresh with something cool, something that was just ours.
But my future husband, whose extended family throws reunions that are essentially small festivals, didn’t find it funny.
My husband wanted me to take his last name, while I was ambivalent
It wasn’t that I was emotionally tied to my previous last name. Saying and spelling “Childs” for the rest of my life was just easier than “Nieslanik”. Not to mention, it feels weird to think of yourself as one person with one name for so many years, only to change that. My name was a fundamental part of who I was. To change it in my mid-thirties felt strange.
Plus, there is the bureaucratic red tape that comes with changing your name. Birth certificate, driver’s license, passport, and bills. Changing your name is like updating your entire identity one tedious form at a time. At the end of the day, though, I knew how much it would mean to my husband if I took his last name. And part of that was because I had already changed my name once.
It wasn’t my first last name change
My last name when I met my husband wasn’t the one I was born with. Ironically, in my late teens, I’d already gone through a name change after a short-lived first marriage. My maiden name had been a mouthful that people always messed up, so adopting a simpler one was a relief. Plus, no one in my immediate family shared my last name. My mom had given me her maiden name, but she remarried and took my stepfather’s last name, as did my half-brother, whom they had together. I was the only one left with a hard name no one else seemed to want.
The fact that I had changed my name before, no matter the reason, didn’t sit well with my soon-to-be husband. If I had changed it before, he argued, why wouldn’t I be willing to change it again? This time, for him. It felt like a personal slight, which I understood.
Beyond that, my husband comes from a large, close-knit family who do all share the same last name. Every summer, they gather in the hundreds for a family reunion and have streets named after them in towns sprinkled across the Western Slope of Colorado. As an only child, he felt we needed to carry on the name for his family branch by having me take his name.
He had a strong internal belief that members of the same family should have the same name. Although his family is relatively liberal, they shared the cultural expectation that a woman takes her husband’s name when they marry. And he had some pride wrapped up in the idea that I would carry his name—that when people met us, they would know that we belonged together.
I don’t mind that I changed my name
Since I had no strong objections, I did end up changing my name, and I never really looked back. I used a service that helped me change all my accounts, IDs, and paperwork in one (mostly) easy go, so the hassle was more minimal than expected.
Now, more than a decade later, I see several upsides to having changed my last name. For example, it’s uncommon, so I rarely get confused with anyone else. As a writer, I find that beneficial. I like having the same last name as our children, and I’m glad I didn’t have to think about whose name we should give them or if we should hyphenate. And I’ve realized that my last name has a lot of personality. If that means I have to spell it an extra time or two, the trade-off is now worth it in my opinion.
These days, however, my husband has had a change of heart about the situation
A few years ago, my husband apologized to me for “making” me change my name. He mentioned how silly he thought his reasonings were now, that he understood having the same last name is kind of arbitrary. He pointed out that it affects literally no part of our lives together in a substantial way. My favorite realization that he mentioned was how our love is so much greater than a shared last name. Then, he asked if I’d like to change my name back.
The thought of returning to the ease of “Childs” as a last name has its appeal, but I couldn’t help but laugh. I have zero desire to go through that paperwork again. Not unless he wants to revisit that original idea of picking a brand-new name together. And he’s willing to file the forms himself this time.
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