I've always admired the letter "X". Although rarely used in languages or alphabets, it has become a commonly used symbol around the world. I recently observed the global domination of the loneliest of the letters while Aylin and I were on vacation in Turkey for 18 days. Even though "X" is not a letter in the Turkish language, everywhere you look there is the letter "X" staring at you. A painted "X" over a political poster on a construction site. "You are Here" designation on a tourist information map. No smoking sign in the airplane. And it doesn't end there. I started to obsess about the "X". People used it to mark a spot on a map, designate size, count a strike, rate a movie, indicate denial. We have become so accustomed to letter “X” as our first choice for a variable in algebra that the letter 'X' has evolved to represent the unknown around the world, i.e. X-Factor, X-Files, X-Plane.
I've been euphemistically using male names for our baby for comedic effect. I could've used a generic term like "Baby-X" which would have reflected how little we actually knew of our child. But, despite Aylin's worries that they were going to stick, naming our child Zigi the Zygote, Ember the Embryo, and Fethi the Fetus during each growth stage reflected belonging, family, and togetherness with a comic flare. The truth is, picking the name for ones child must be one of the hardest things to do as a parent. At least it feels like that to me right now. Next to saying goodbye to them.
The name we choose must be regal, phonetically pleasing, globally familiar, unique, secular, and pleasing to at least 3 different cultures, all religions, and two headstrong adults. Our task got slightly easier on August 27th when we learned the sex of our baby.
The amniocentesis procedure is a genetic test that not only tests for genetic disorders such as Down syndrome and MS but also as a side benefit identifies the sex of the baby by examining DNA extracted from the amniotic fluid. My mind was occupied with something completely different at the entrance of the villa complex of Tunay's summer residence while the guard was lifting an "X" marked road block to let the car through. Aylin had decided to stay at home instead of coming with us to Datca. She was waiting for us below the steps leading to the front door smiling in a pink halter-top, a color she does not prefer as I do not prefer to be bitten by a snake. I remember being confused by her wearing pink but didn't pay much attention. I was in a hurry to put the beers we had just bought from the local store into the refrigerator before they got warm from the unusually hot and windless summer day we were having. Peeking over the open fridge door I noticed that she had also stuck under her bandana a few flower petals of the pink bougainvillea that hangs down from the fence. This was especially curious, was the heat getting to her? Realizing that her shorts were also stuffed with pink petals all over was plain old weird....and for a split second I was convinced of heat stroke. Then it dawned on me. It was Monday, August 27th. First open day of the office of Doctor Galen Jones since we took off to Turkey. I asked if she had called the doctor looking surprised and anxious but in hopes that I wouldn't have to chase her with a bucket of cold water. Wow, now I get the flowers. Pink theme. A girl. A girl. Thank God a Girl. Otherwise, where could she have found blue flowers at such short notice?
I don't mean to be sarcastic or patronizing. I will never forget the moment I saw her at the bottom of the steps. She looked happy, content, and angelically beautiful from the few rays of the setting sun that managed to squeak through the blinds and scatter off of her fair complexion. She was love in pink and I was loving it. The truth of the matter is we were more worried about the real reasons for the somewhat uncomfortable and risky procedure Aylin had to go through. Were there any genetic abnormalities or defects? Aylin and I had made the decision to learn the sex of the child at the earliest opportunity. The amniocentesis procedure gave us that option. However, we both wished for a healthy child regardless of sex. It is for that reason pink didn't sink for a while. I was elated from the enormous relief of getting the genetic approval of a genetically healthy child. A huge load had been lifted from our shoulders and now Aylin and I could truly enjoy the rest of our vacation. After a long sigh I hugged and kissed my wife for, I don't know, somewhere between 2 minutes to eternity of laughter and tears, happiness and wonder. And then, it hit me...
Our DNA contains what are called "sex chromosomes". The Sex chromosomes are a pair of chromosomes that comprise about 5% of our total DNA known as the "X" and "Y" chromosomes. Ironically, out of the 2000 or so genes carried by the sex chromosomes, few, if any are directly related to sex determination or development. They are called sex chromosomes because each one of us carry a pair of them and only females have two "X" chromosomes; "XX". Don't you see? Our Baby-"X" has become our Baby-"XX".
That's what we are going to have to name her for now, "Baby-XX". I expect a lot of research, discussions, suggestions, and corrections in the future. I hope one of the three of us can pick a name before we have to register her to school. I am vetoing the following names right now: Xena, Xantha, Xaviera, Xyla, Xanadu, Xerox, Xerkes, AjaX ,AXe, AXel....
