What's in a Name?

I had to write an assignment for one of my classes about my name--how I got it, what it means, etc. I decided to share it here.

Many years before I made my screaming debut into this world, my parents thought of my name, Katrina Ann, yet it wasn’t with me in mind. They had decided that they would name my older sister Katrina Ann. After some thought my mom decided that name would be a mouthful for a child to utter so they decided Sandra Dee would be the better fit.
Two years later when my mom was pregnant with me, my dad was fixated on naming me Brian James if I were a boy and Brenda Jean if I were a girl so he could call his second born “BJ” regardless of gender. Thankfully, when my mom laid eyes on me for the first time, she did not think that I looked like a Brenda Jean. Whatever that means. I mean, who actually looks or doesn’t look like a certain name. Doesn’t the name suit its recipient over time anyway? But I digress. Some discussions were had and the original name for my older sister reentered their thoughts and I became Katrina Ann Hutchinson. In some ways I am thankful. What girl would survive middle school with the name “BJ” without some derogatory comments or teasing?
So, Katrina I was. It wasn’t a bad name; however, my dad wanted to nickname me Trina. Even at three and four years old I didn’t like the name, nor did I think it fit. It reminded me of a choo choo train. I think I can. I think I can. Chugga, chugga, choo choo!! What could I do, though? It was my name. It’s not like I could change it…or could I?
The first day of first grade, my sister, Sandi (it turns out that Sandra was a mouthful too), took me to my classroom and I met Ms. Reese, my teacher, for the first time. Shyly I clung to my sister as the introduction was made until Ms. Reese crouched down and said, “Katrina, huh? Do you go by Katrina or would you like to go by something else?” Something else? I thought. I did have a choice. She began rattling off other nicknames. Trina. Yuck! Kate. Maybe, but it still didn’t seem right. Katie. That’s it!!! It was the perfect fit. I went through the day being called Katie and enjoying every minute. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? That afternoon, I returned home and informed my parents with an illustrative stomp of my tiny foot that my name was Katie and I would no longer answer to any other name. And Katie I was.
Then, in seventh grade, something happened. In Mrs. Bernstein’s science class I was one of five Katies in the class. Not only were there so many Katies, but three of us spelled it K-A-T-I-E while the other two spelled it K-A-T-Y. Our papers were constantly being confused and I heard Mrs. Bernstein grumble something about it would be nice if each of us had our own unique way of spelling the name so it would be easier to accurately keep track of our grades. So, as I was typing a report one day, I made a typo when typing my name. K-A-I-T-I. With Mrs. Bernstein’s words echoing in my mind, I decided that would be the new spelling for my name. I mean, it was a nickname anyway so nothing was really binding me to the spelling I had used in early childhood.
Eventually, I met and married the man of my dreams and my last name was changed to Lewitt. That was the day that brought me to the name I answer to today, Kaiti Lewitt—a name that was 100% my choosing. I chose the nickname when I was six, the spelling of it when I was twelve and my new last name when I was twenty-one. This name represents me, who I am, what I’ve been through, and my independence. It’s not just a name bestowed upon me by someone with no indication of my personality. It is a name that I chose piece-by-piece over the course of my life that reflects where I am from, who I am, and who I was meant to be. Kaiti Lewitt. That’s me.