What I Wish I Knew Before Obsessing Over Popular Baby Names 2024

It was 2017, a Tuesday, and I was sweating through a heather-gray maternity tunic at a crowded Starbucks on 4th Street, desperately trying to ignore the fact that my compression leggings were actively cutting off circulation to my thighs. My husband, Mark, was sitting across from me with a half-eaten blueberry scone and a yellow legal pad, aggressively crossing out every single name I had lovingly curated over the last six months. Everything was either "too weird," "sounds like a guy I hated in college," or "spelled like a typo." I wanted something unique but not bizarre. He wanted something that sounded like an accountant from 1956. I was running on four hours of sleep and an iced decaf latte that tasted like deep disappointment.

Naming a human being is a ridiculous amount of pressure. You're literally assigning a sound to a person that they'll have to respond to until they die, which is heavy. When I look at the landscape of what everyone is naming their babies this year, I'm struck by how much everything has changed, and yet, how we're all still having the exact same panicked arguments in coffee shops.

Looking at the trend lists right now, it's a wild mix of aggressively old-fashioned nicknames and kids named after foliage. And I kind of love it? But I also wish someone had told me back then what I know now about how this whole baby name circus actually plays out in the real world.

My husband's veto list and the reality of the top ten

According to the social security data that I obsessively refresh when I'm procrastinating on actual work, the top spots are basically a locked fortress. You've got Olivia, Emma, Sophia, Charlotte, and Isabella for girls. For boys, it's Liam, Noah, Oliver, Elijah, and Mateo. These names are beautiful. They're classic. They're also everywhere.

But thing is that makes me want to scream into a pillow: Ellie just broke into the top ten for the very first time, and it knocked Evelyn out. Listen. Evelyn is a serious name for a woman who does her taxes early and maybe solves mysteries on the side. Ellie is a golden retriever. I don't know why this bothers me so much, but it feels like a personal attack on vintage sophistication. Anyway, the point is, naming trends are shifting from formal and serious to just straight-up cute.

Sofia reclaimed a top spot because apparently we're all globally united in our love for vowel-heavy names, moving on.

Then there's Sarah. My name. After over 60 years of sitting comfortably in the top 100, Sarah finally dropped off to number 108. I'm officially obsolete. I'm a vintage artifact. My name is now the equivalent of a dusty landline phone, and honestly, fair enough.

We just name children after trees and grandparents now

There's this massive shift toward nature-inspired and earthy names right now. Parents are looking around outside and just pointing at stuff. Willow, Hazel, Ivy, Juniper, Wren, Dove. It's like a millennial and Gen Z rebellion against the sterile, screen-obsessed world we live in. We want our kids to sound like they frolic in meadows, even if they're actually just eating crushed cheerios off the floor of a Honda CR-V.

I read somewhere—probably some article I half-skimmed at 3 AM while nursing—that this correlates with our generation's anxiety about climate change and our desire for sustainability. We want eco-friendly everything, so we give our kids eco-friendly names. It makes sense. It's the same reason my entire home aesthetic shifted from "target clearance aisle" to "sad beige organic" the minute I got pregnant.

When Maya was born, we went hard on the earthy, sustainable vibe. I basically lived for the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit Sleeveless Infant Onesie from Kianao. It's made of 95% organic cotton and undyed, which is great because Maya's skin would break out in a furious red rash if she even looked at a synthetic fiber. There was this one afternoon at a very quiet, very pretentious local bakery where she had a blowout of epic proportions. It was up her back. It was in her hair. I was crying, she was crying, but those envelope shoulders on the Kianao bodysuit let me pull the whole toxic mess down over her feet instead of over her head, saving us both from a literal biological disaster. It's my absolute favorite piece of baby clothing. It actually survived the first year.

If you're already going down the rabbit hole of earthy, organic baby names, you might as well fall into the aesthetic entirely and explore Kianao's baby blankets and organic collections just to embrace the sustainable life, it's honestly very calming amidst the chaos.

The cowboy trend is out of control

Okay, we need to talk about the boys' list. There's a micro-trend happening right now that naming experts call "Modern Cowboy" but I just call "Names from Yellowstone."

Colter. Stetson. Kayce. Wyatt.

We live in a suburb with a massive Home Depot and a synthetic turf dog park, but Mark, a man who gets winded carrying in the groceries, desperately wanted to name our son Stetson. I almost filed for divorce. I asked him if he was planning on buying a ranch or if he just really liked hats, and he didn't talk to me for a full day. The power of television is terrifying, you guys.

Instead, we went with Leo. Mostly because it's three letters, packed with vowels (which is another huge trend right now—Mia, Ezra, Luca, Koa), and it sounded somewhat normal for when I eventually had to yell it across a playground while he refused to leave the sandbox.

Speaking of Leo, I wish I had known about Kianao's Colorful Dinosaur Bamboo Baby Blanket back then. When Leo was around ten months old, he became violently obsessed with dinosaurs. My mother-in-law bought him this hideous, scratchy polyester T-Rex blanket from a big box store. He insisted on sleeping with it every night, and because it didn't breathe at all, he would wake up drenched in sweat, screaming. The Kianao one is 70% organic bamboo and 30% organic cotton, so it honestly keeps stable temperature, plus the little turquoise and lime green dinos are genuinely cute instead of looking like terrifying movie monsters. It's soft, breathable, and doesn't make your kid wake up feeling like they slept in a sauna.

How I totally failed the porch test

If you're currently pregnant and hyperventilating over a spreadsheet of baby names, you've probably heard of the "Porch Test." This is where you stand on your back porch and scream the name repeatedly as if calling your kid in for dinner, just to see if it feels right.

I did this with the name "Silas" when I was pregnant with Leo. I stood on my tiny apartment balcony and yelled "SILAS! DINNER!" and my neighbor poked his head out and asked if I was calling a cat.

I abandoned Silas immediately.

There's so much anxiety about "name regret," which apparently affects about 9 percent of parents. You worry about the initials spelling out ASS or something awful, or that the natural nickname will be terrible, or that the name is too popular and they'll be one of five Liam's in their kindergarten class.

I brought this up to my pediatrician, Dr. Gupta, when Maya was a newborn, completely spiraling about whether "Maya" was too common. He literally laughed out loud, handed me a burp cloth, and told me that babies don't even process their own names or care what you call them until they're like, eight months old anyway. And even then, half the time you're just going to call them "Stinky" or "Bubba."

He was right. I call Maya "Goose" 90 percent of the time.

Oh, quick side note on the natural aesthetic thing. If you're leaning into the organic, minimalist nursery vibe, I've to give a brutally honest review of the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy. It’s... fine. It's totally safe, 100% food-grade silicone, and you can throw it in the dishwasher, which is the only way I've the energy to sanitize anything. But honestly? The bamboo detail makes it look a little too much like a premium dog toy. My golden retriever, Baxter, thought I bought it specifically for him. He stole it off the coffee table three times in one week. It works great for teething gums, Maya liked chewing on the textured edges, but I spent half my life washing dog spit off of it. Just a heads up if you've pets who lack boundaries.

What I wish I knew before staring at a birth certificate

Here's the reality of naming a baby in 2024, or any year.

We stress out because we feel like we're defining their entire identity before they even have object permanence. We look at the fastest-rising global names like Ailany and Mateo, we debate the merits of vintage nicknames like Millie versus formal names like Mildred, and we drive ourselves absolutely insane trying to find the magical intersection of "unique but not weird."

But the name doesn't make the kid. The kid makes the name.

When you first write it down on that birth certificate while still wearing mesh hospital underwear and shivering from adrenaline, it feels like the heaviest word in the world. But then a year goes by. And another year. And soon, "Hazel" isn't just a trendy nature name, she's the toddler who insists on wearing rain boots to bed. "Oliver" isn't a top-three statistic, he's the kid who laughs so hard milk shoots out of his nose.

So pick the cowboy name if it makes you happy. Pick the tree name. Pick the three-letter vowel name. Try to remember that the initials shouldn't spell anything catastrophic and just try to not lose your mind over the social security list.

Before you completely lose your mind over birth certificates and monogrammed towels, get the actual practical stuff sorted. Head over to Kianao to stock up on organic, sustainable baby gear that will seriously survive the first year.

FAQ: All your panicked baby name questions, answered

What do I do if I absolutely hate the top names on the 2024 list?

Ignore them! Honestly, the top names only represent a fraction of the population anyway because name diversity is so huge right now. If you don't want an Olivia or a Noah, dive into the bottom half of the top 1000. Or look at your family tree. Just don't let the internet bully you into thinking you've to use a trendy name if you'd rather name your kid Arthur or Gary. (Though maybe not Gary).

Are vintage nicknames like Millie or Josie too informal for when they grow up?

I used to think this, but the corporate world is changing so fast. By the time our kids are looking for jobs in 2045, they'll be competing against people named Stetson and Juniper. A resume with "Josie" at the top is going to be completely normal. Stop trying to dress a future 40-year-old and just name the baby you've.

How do I convince my partner to like my favorite name?

You can't force it, which is the worst. But my trick with Mark was to just start using the name casually around the house. "I think Leo is kicking." "We need to buy more diapers for Leo." Sometimes they just need to hear it out loud in context to stop thinking of it as an abstract concept and start associating it with their actual kid.

Is it really that bad if my baby's name is in the top 10?

No! The top 10 names are there because they're genuinely great names. Yes, they might have to be "Emma S." in first grade, but I was "Sarah M." for my entire childhood and I survived. Don't abandon a name you truly love just because other people happen to have good taste too.

Do baby names really matter as much as we think they do?

Yes and no. It matters because it's their identity, but it doesn't matter nearly as much as the agonizing process makes you think it does. The second that baby is born, the name you chose instantly molds to fit them. It's weird magic, but it happens every time. Oh god, just writing this is making me want another coffee.