Becoming Irby Vu

*Photo by: AnneMarie Hamant Photography*

In the fall of 2015, after years of “you’re an amazing girl, but I’m just not ready” experiences, a lot of soul searching, a lot of tears, and a very long flight to Asia, I sat in a steamy Airbnb in Bangkok, Thailand and pleaded with God — that He only put the person on my path who was truly meant for me and not bring anyone or anything less than the love I wanted and deserved. I prayed that so hard and felt so heard that I radiated love, openness and readiness for what God had in store for me.

What feels like seconds later, now in hindsight, I met someone who checked all my proverbial boxes. I knew God was listening. Of course He was; I was ready!

What I didn’t realize at that point was that who was truly meant for me, and who I was actually ready for was the son that relationship would give me. That relationship was fleeting, but the beautiful little gift of light was Enzo Alexander Giang Irby Vu.

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For almost 4 years, I ran a summer camp and interacted with little humans every day. I, like many, compiled a list of all of the names of ‘cool kids’ I met whose names I thought I might like for my unborn child. When it came to selecting his name lots of things came into play. One thing that I never questioned was whether or not my son would have both of our last names. The role his father would or would not play in his life didn’t matter, what mattered was that this Little Noodle was a product of both of us and there would be no denying that since I am Black American and his father is Vietnamese. I wanted to make sure that he never lost sight of all the pieces that make him special and never feel unsure of his value and richness of his makeup.

He is an Irby and a Vu.

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I grew up the sole child of a single, unmarried mother who, very proudly, carried, and still carries her father’s name - Irby. I didn’t have a relationship with my birth father and was raised by my mother exclusively so I had always been Irby. I never had imagined I’d ever change my name, unless I married someone with a really cool last name that was worth considering… until I became Enzo’s mom.

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When he made his way on the planet in November of 2016, I knew I’d make future decisions from a new place — a place free of ego, a place free of self, I, or me — everything new was about we, us, and our tribe now, including our name.

Before the snow was off the ground that winter, I became a single mom. A Black, single mother, to a gorgeous, half Vietnamese, half Black boy. I ran through all the experiences as the child of a single Black mother and recalled how much lighter I breathed when a teacher called my mom “Ms. Irby” and it was so. I remembered how much pride and ease I found in our likeness.

We had a wooden sign on our front door that said ‘Irby Family’ and it made my heart feel a little more in sync with hers because we were the same.

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To sum it up, I didn’t change my name because I got married (I didn’t) — I changed my name because I became a “we”. We will face plenty of questions and challenges daily as we navigate the quotidian trials of life in airports, pediatricians offices and schools as we accept and embrace our identities, our love and our lives — one place there needn’t be any challenge, difference, or question is in whether or not we are cut from the same cloth, whether or not we are a “we”, a family, a unit. Any load I can share with him, I will. What he carries, I will carry — including a name that I wasn’t given, but is one I gave him to carry. So long as he is Irby Vu, I will walk along side him and we’ll confidently hold up our heads and family name together.