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What’s with the name?

Where did the name Minna Babe come from?

 

I get this question a lot.

So, here it is. The story behind our name.

And like any good name, it has a story the means something to us.

 

When we were expecting our first baby, I decided I wanted to have some type of security item for him/her. After she arrived, I bought a pink, grey and white, muslin swaddling cloth, cut it into 4 squares, and sewed white satin around the edges. I had 4 of them – you know, in case we lost one or two along the way. As she grew, her heart for these little blankets grew too. They became a sense of comfort, peace, and security for her when times got tough, like they do when you are one.

It wasn’t long before she started stringing sounds together and mimicking our language. Some how ‘blankey’ was real tricky to say, but darn it she tried and tried anyway. It was my husband who figured out that what she was saying meant ‘blankey.’ And what she was saying was

 

‘Minna.’

 

And so, the tradition began. When our next was born, 4 grey and white muslin cloth with white satin ribbon awaited his arrival. And just like his sister, his minna was never far from his side. But this time, he didn’t need to struggle to name it. We all called it

 

‘his minna.’

 

And we did the same for our third. Our first 2 have out grown their minnas, but our third still calls on his for comfort and peace and rest. And when we’re getting ready to leave the house, or go to bed, or he’s tired, or hurt, we all say to him

 

“Where’s your minna babe?”

 

He goes and gets it, or someone will get it for him, and we sit and cuddle, and all the world is well. And now, we are all excited and waiting for a little brother or sister, son or daughter. We’re making this ‘minna’ with our kids. We’re going rainbow themed this time, for our rainbow baby.

Labour is like rock climbing

We’re getting ready to meet another one of our kids.

We’re pumped.

But if I’m honest, I’m not super pumped about the baby’s birth day. I know it’ll be hard, I know I can do it, and I suspect, as with our others, it’ll be one of the best days of our life.

But I find myself not wanting to think about it. Can’t I just show up, and hope for the best?

Have you heard of Free Solo? I only just heard about it this week. It’s a documentary of Alex Honnold’s free solo (like, no ropes) climb of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, California. El Capitan is a 3000f base to summit rock wall of granite. Like …

I watched a TED talk he did the other night. I get that rock climbing and childbirth are not the same things, but I couldn’t help drawing a parallel between his story, and mine. In his TED talk he shares an experience of a solo climb he did without any prep. He just showed up at the base of a rock wall, started climbing without a rope and hoped for the best. And you know what happened? He did it. He says he got lucky, and that the achievement didn’t even really feel like an achievement, it felt like luck.

So when he considered El Capitan, he promised himself he would do it differently. He would prepare. He would practice with ropes, and a team, and spend the time to ensure success. And when he reached the summit of El Capitan free solo in June 2017, he felt like he’d achieved something. He describes it as the best day of his life.
So … I’m going to take his advice. I’m going to practice with ropes. I’m going to prepare for success, and for one of the best days of my life, of our life. I’m going to work to redeem the hardest parts of our previous births, the parts where I got lucky.

And it’s going to be one of the best days of our life.

*Disclaimer*

Please know that I understand birth isn’t that predictable, even with the most intentional prep, things don’t always go the way we think. There is space for this. For me, and for you too.