I told Mum my baby’s name – she thought I was joking

When I became pregnant, I instantly knew that my daughter was a Mabel. It comes from the Latin Amabilis, which means ‘lovable’ and ‘loving’.

And even while in the womb, I knew that my daughter was completely lovable. I could feel her adorable vibes emanating from inside me.

It was the ideal name for our beautiful little bundle of joy.

My mum, however, instantly made it clear that she absolutely hated it. I’ll never forget the moment that I told my family about it.

We were having afternoon tea at a posh hotel overlooking the sea to celebrate my birthday. My mum and the rest of my extended family were all there for the special occasion, along with my fiancé.

I broke the happy news that I was pregnant and expecting a girl. Like you’d expect, it wasn’t long before the chatter turned to baby names.

When asked if we had any ideas yet, we proudly announced that we’d already named her Mabel.

I was expecting coos of adoration, but instead my mum glared at me and said, ‘You’re joking?’ There was a frosty silence and awkward looks all around until I clarified that this was indeed our chosen name.

My sister tried to smooth over the tension, saying it was a beautiful choice. Then my granny uncertainly said, ‘Well, I suppose the old names are coming back into fashion.’

But my mum insisted that it reminded her of an elderly lady who smells of mothballs, knits tea cosies, and collects ceramic cats. Oblivious to my upset, she continued, ‘You know she will get bullied at school? The children will laugh at her, and she will hate you for it.’

I felt too sad to reassure her that Mabel wasn’t an awful name. It’s old-fashioned and traditional, but plenty of kids have vintage-inspired monikers.

Yet, as far as my mum was concerned, I was setting my first child up for years of playground humiliation. This was the first hint that new motherhood wasn’t going to be the warm, supportive family experience I’d expected.

My mum’s judgemental reaction set the tone for years of tension between us – and I’m not alone. A 2017 Gransnet survey found one in five grandparents hate their grandchild’s name and The Telegraph this week profiled the rise of ‘ugly’ baby names.

While heavily-pregnant, a few months after the initial announcement, I met up with my mum and her bestie at a pub. They were clearly a couple of cocktails in, as they were loudly offering their opinion on every aspect of my impending motherhood including my child’s name.

Before long, they launched into a tipsy brainstorming session, cackling away and rhyming Mabel with all kinds of words.

‘Table, stable, able.’ My mum kept parroting, ‘It’s in the stable, Mabel.’

Then she begged me not to call my baby Mabel again, insisting that my daughter would thank me for changing my mind one day. I sat there in stunned belief at the ridiculousness of it all, suddenly realising that I no longer cared what my mum thought.

In the end, I got up and left the pub.

Even after Mabel was born and her name was officially on her birth certificate, my mum hadn’t accepted that it was here to stay.

She would ask whether I’d considered referring to Mabel by her more ‘conventional’ middle name.

This, apparently, was a much better thing to do.

She also tried calling my daughter ‘Mae’ and ‘Belle’ at various points, then wondered why Mabel frowned at her in confusion.

But since becoming a mum myself, I’ve developed a much thicker skin when it comes to my own mum, who, frankly, is rarely pleased with anything I do anyway. I’ve stopped trying to defend my parenting and life choices now.

Mabel’s currently in early primary school and she’s never been bullied over her name. As it happens, her two best friends also have vintage-inspired names.

The only drawback of calling our daughter Mabel is that she’s never found her name on those delightfully tacky souvenir keyrings or giant pencils at the beach.

Funnily enough, we would often hear stories of another Mabel of the same age in a neighbouring town. Her name would sometimes pop up at gymnastics class or yoga, with people mentioning her in passing.

I kept secretly hoping that we’d bump into the other Mabel. Then one day, the two Mabels finally met at a play park.

I called out my daughter’s name and two little girls said ‘yes’. They looked at each other in bewilderment, then gasped in excitement when they realised they’d met their name twin.

The pair had great fun playing together all afternoon. I spoke to the other Mabel’s mum and it emerged that they’d spent ages hoping to bump into my Mabel too.

Interestingly, she told me that her mother-in-law was no fan of the choice either.

But as we looked at the two Mabels, we agreed that they were happy, adorable, and totally living up to their name, despite their opinionated grandmothers.

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