by Manda Carr

Created on: August 20, 2008

My poor husband has no heir. Well, in name only. I am his third and hopefully, final wife. I kept my maiden name. I did not do so to scold his previous bad judgment, or to 'prepare for the worst': divorce. I kept my maiden name for a variety of reasons, which made my choice a personal one, based on personal need.

My father left when I was thirteen. Apart from a few birthday cards, signed by the next wife, he did not give me much more than his DNA. He did, however, give me a wonderful pair of Grandparents who had named him, raised him, loved him, and then transferred that love to me. Out of sense of honour and duty to these fine people, I wanted to buried with the one thing history had passed down to me from them, my name. Lord knows you don't get to take anything else with you. Retain that fact as I give you the next piece of the 'maiden name' puzzle.

I was nothing if not a questioning child. Ultimately, this meant that the pre-teen 'Why?' child turned into the 'you say "black" and I will say "white"' angry young woman. A questioning nature is fine, but an inability to decide can be an awkward side effect. There are not many constants for a mind like that. This mind craved tomorrow to resemble today.

Then there was 'the twin'. Having a twin means I am subject to a strange form of identity theft. The fact we were not identical did not seem to matter to relatives, teachers, friends, and acquaintances, who did like to compare. "Ah, so you're the brainy one..." and "Oh, let's buy them matching cat-suits!" are phrases no human being deserves to be on the end of. Most twins in this position did exactly as my sister and I: we asserted our own unique identities when possible, even to the point of caricature.

I'm a fan of history, and trivia too. Somewhere over the years I recalled Roman Matriarchs of noble birth retaining their name, and of Ulster Women, only a century or so ago, keeping theirs. All of this paled into insignificance though, with the birth of my child. Oh, no. The curious joke names from hubby's surname would not haunt her days in the playground. I put my foot down and I offered him a deal: he could choose all future first names if the last were assured as mine. Done. Now left his expert knowledge of marriage and the law, "You have to change your name at the Registrars; how else are you going to change the name on your bank account, phone bills, passport . . . "

Well, lazy as I am, that one sealed the deal. I got married - not incorporated. I did not want to change my entire identity, or possibly ruin my honeymoon by not having the right name on the hotel register. So much easier to love, hold and cherish a hubby while still being me.

I realise other women like taking on a new identity. That it serves as a symbolic 'gift' of trust and hope for a united future, but I get the security and comfort from other places. While women don't have to keep their maiden name, they should never feel as if it is forfeit, because of marriage.

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