He arrived at 9:03 on June 28. Weighing in at 7 lbs 10 oz, standing 20" tall with a reach of 7".
All of the futile conversations we had over his name before he arrived, then we held him and both said, "Carrick," a gaelic term for rock. Both our prayer for him and his already calm, stolid nature.
Why a rock? A rock remains, stands firm, acts as a foundation. I pray that he holds fast to the trustworthy word, insisting on truth.
But a rock also sacrifices self to sharpen. No one wants to walk through life with an impenetrable cliff. And I pray he learns to give himself for others.
And "McCann," my grandmother's maiden name and the longest legacy of faith in my family. A legacy we pray he continues.
I feel overly analytical and embarrassingly poetic with that explanation, but that's the over-thought why of his name. Don't hold it against him. He's already much cooler than me. I mean, have you seen his faux hawk??