In this picture, Madison is holding Grant. Only she doesn't know that his name is Grant. In fact, she thinks he's "Noah."
You'd think that a nine-month pregnancy was ample time to decide upon a name. If not, surely the birth of the baby would be a shot across the bow. But somehow we managed to make it a week and a half before we arrived at "Grant."
Jenny had her list of names. She favored the traditional. The Bible seemed the perfect source. Her top nominations were Noah and Ammon (Bible, Book of Mormon, take your pick).
Joe, on the other hand, used the "batter's box" test: Imagine a young man stepping up to the batter's box in the bottom of the last inning--tied ball game. As soon as that cleat crosses the chalk, the PA announces, "And next up to bat, number 7, _____________ McGregor." The name should send a nearly-visible shockwave across the opposing team's bleachers, leaving each individual separately thinking one collective thought: 'With a name like that, this kid's going to knock the heck out of the ball, and my child's life will be ruined.' This inspired Joe to nominate ESPN, Grant, and Nelson.
Normal couples would have compromised. One person offering the first while the other offered the middle was not an option; both parents wanted to pass down a name from Jenny's family. Originally we wanted Douglass, after Jenny's father, but later we settled on Benjamin, after Jenny's deceased brother.
"Gentlemanly Joe" offered the mother of his child, the woman that went through so much pain and agony to deliver this future Rhodes scholar, Heismann trophy winner, and eventual President, to name him as she wished. But she just couldn't bring herself to name him . . . at all. Each day went by with her vacillating between Benjamin Grant, Noah Benjamin, and various other combinations. Joe's co-workers began asking daily if the child finally had a name. Soon, they just stopped asking.
On Monday, March 31, the hospital called Jenny to remind her that the child still had no name. So she gave them one: Grant Joseph.
