File #9 - the Sleeping Star
Some babies make a real entrance at their naming days. And some… simply opt out.
Last month I led a naming ceremony for a little girls who had clearly decided that life’s big moments were best experienced horizontally and unconscious.
She slept - not just a cosy doze, but the kind of deep, floppy, blissed-out sleep that makes every adult in the room jealous - from the moment her parents welcomed everyone to the second we finished the group blessing.
Every so often someone would lean in, half expecting her to stir during the sand ceremony, or make a peep during the readings, or open her eyes when her grandparents spoke about the hopes they had for her future.
Nothing. Not a flicker. Just the softest breathing and one tiny sigh that rippled down the front row.
It ended up changing the whole atmosphere of the room. People slowed down. They softened. They whispered. It felt as though we were holding the moment gently, careful not to disturb her - and in doing so, we all became more present. Her stillness became the ceremony’s centre of gravity.
At one point, her mum laughed and said, “Well… this is very on-brand for her,” and everyone nodded the way families do when a trait makes perfect, funny sense.
As the ceremony closed, she finally stretched one hand above her head, as if she’d personally wrapped things up. It was super cute.
Not every baby beams through their naming day. Some simply sleep their way through the beginning of their story - and that’s just as perfect.