My foster mother hated her first name. I found another way to honor her after she died.

I wanted to honor her while also keeping my promise

In 2006, almost 10 years after Esther died of an aggressive brain cancer, I was pregnant with my first daughter. I sat with my husband and worked on a list we would update after scanning baby name books. I stayed true to my promise and left Esther off the list, though I did spend some time looking into the history of the name. Of Persian origin, Esther means “star.” In the bible, Esther was the name of a Queen. The name was associated with strength and beauty. Who wouldn’t want that for their daughter?

I also looked back into the most popular names from the year Esther was born, 1936. The name wasn’t even popular then.

While I loved the meaning, I heard the voice of my foster mother in the back of my mind. My promise came back in vivid detail. Over time, it had become more than a promise; Esther brought it up more than once, turning it into something of a threat. Once, she’d said, “If you name your child after me, I’ll come back and haunt you.”

We decided on Cameran for our firstborn daughter. My husband also agreed to use Elizabeth as a middle name. Elizabeth had biblical origins and meant “God’s promise.” It was also Esther’s middle name and the name she chose for her youngest daughter. It was the perfect way to honor the woman who became my best friend and mother, no matter our mismatched DNA.

It also became a way to keep Esther in our lives and make sure my children knew who she was. I did not want her to be a ghost to my children, as my biological mother had been to me. I had a family who provided memories and pictures of my biological mother because we were connected by blood. Since I was not related biologically to my foster mom, my kids would only have me to pass along stories and make her a real part of their lives.

My daughter Cameran may never fully understand the importance of her middle name or personally know how amazing and strong the woman who shared it was, but I do. It will serve her well as she heads into the real world. Now, at 17, she is headed off to college in the fall. My daughter reminds me of my foster mother — independent and fierce. I’m sure it’s not just the middle name I passed down but the lessons Esther taught me. They are lessons I’ve passed along to my children and ones I hope they will pass along to their children.