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A year ago today, I was completing a 33-hour natural childbirth, swearing up a storm so serious it was classified by the National Weather Service and welcoming the most glorious human being to ever scoot his bum across this planet.

During the last 12 months — and even the nine I was cooking up Mr. Harvey — Elenor and I were often asked about the magic that is making a family when you don't have both a male and female parent.

Most were easy to answer.

Q: How did you decide who would be the bio mom and carry the baby? A: Rock, paper, scissors (kidding, lots of conversation).

Q: Are you doing the insemination at home *eyebrow flutter*? A: No, and we don't try to fix our own cars either — it's way too expensive to mess up and not really romantic.

Q: Who's the dad? A: Harvey has two moms and a sperm donor who we know as 4849.

Q: How did you chose the donor? A: We started with physical characteristics in an attempt to match Elenor's hair and eye color (we nailed it!), but ended up weighing family medical history and the 20-second audio clip more than everything else.

But the question we've gotten the most often is: What will he call us? And we've been stumped.

We agreed that "mama" is an endearing name, and he babbles it all the time. It's probably accidental (in fact, we'd like to think it is, since he also says "dada" with staggering frequency), but still. It was easy to decide that one of us would be Mama.

Quite quickly "mum" was vetoed (Elenor reminded me we're not British or East Coast enough), as was "mommy" (cute for a short while, then it feels a little infantile or too associated with sexy undertones), and "mother" (never actually up for consideration). "Mom" would be fine, but it sounds so much like "mama" that it wouldn't provide enough audible distinction.

Since the suggestion and veto process has taken so long, we adopted temporary names: I'm Hamhock and Elenor is Dirty Bird. But Harvey's getting close to using real words, and I just don't want him crying out for Dirty Bird in the middle of the store or asking his teachers when Hamhock will be back to pick him up.

But then it hit me. I was just about to fall asleep the other night and like those dreams where I fall down roller-skating, I jolted awake. I'm Mimi.

I'm not entirely sure why, and it might normally be more of a grandma name, but I love it. It's perfect. It's me(me).

And one of the best parts is that it makes Elenor Mama. The perfect name for one of the world's most graceful and warm nurturers.

So, there you have it, world.

And happy birthday, little twerp. Your Mama and Mimi adore you.

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Marina Gomberg's lifestyle columns appear on sltrib.com. She is a communications professional and lives in Salt Lake City with her wife, Elenor Gomberg, and their son, Harvey. You can reach Marina at mgomberg@sltrib.com.