Brotherton for now…for Life

Now that my marriage is fast approaching, I felt I should address this once and for all. To those that know me it will come as no surprise that no, I will not be changing my name. TO those who feel they don’t know me enough to understand why. This blog is for you!  

Short answer: I AM a Brotherton. 

Long answer:  Being a Brotherton is part of me. Although I love my fiancé very much, I have no connection to Neronov. This doesn’t mean that I’ll be offended if someone calls “Mrs. Neronova,” I will acknowledge it with pride that I get to spend the rest of my life with this man. But this man is not me. I am my own person, with my own identity, and my own name. At this point I feel I should state that I have nothing against woman who change or wish to change their name. It might mean more to them; they might have less of a connection to theirs. It’s not up to me to judge how other people want to be identified.

To break down my strong attachment to Brotherton we need to split it between two parts; the heritage behind it and the women who carry it. 

I grew up loving the way it rolled off the tongue and the ring to my name as you say it out loud. Hannah Marie Brotherton. I even love my initals and that when you write them you don’t have to take the pen off the paper once. But what I love most is that I grew up knowing I got the “Brotherton feet” and the “Brotherton humor.” Those are parts of me. I also have a strong attachment to my paternal grandfather. Who to distinguish from my other grandgrathers we called him simply “Grandpa Brotherton.” Although I am blessed with a plethora of grandparents, Grandpa Brotherton is the one I got to grow up with the most. He came to my soccer games and my elementary school fuctions. I got to spend quality time with him every month, for years, just him and I where we would watch tennis and drink tea. I got to hear stories of him growing up in England, and him fighting in World War II, and his architectural feats here in the United States. All of which revolve around my name. These stories also gave me a greater attachment to my name being English. The fact that there is a town out there with my name and that my friends found fallen soldiers who shared my name on the WOrld War II momument in Europe while they were abroad.

Secondly, and almost more importantly, I have a lot of great women fin my life that still carry the name Brotherton. My grandmother for one, more lovingly referred to as Granby, stayed a Brotherton throughout her life although she is no longer together with my grandfather. Both of my aunts remain Brotherton to some degree. One returned to Brotherton after her divorce and the second choose to hyphen her name. Lastly my mother, although also divorced, chooses to remain a Brotherton. I grew up with these women. These strong, independent, defiant at times women who speak up and stand strong for what they believe. I feel blessed  to follow in these women’s footsteps and hold my head high carrying this name with me throughout my life. It is me and I am Brotherton.



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