I’m going to give you a warning now, before you have a chance to read anything else here today: This is going to be a very sad post.
On Thursday, at my regular OB appointment, we found out that we had lost the baby. Its little heart had just stopped. There was nothing left to do for this little being. Ben and I spent most of the night crying and discussing what we had to do. I began a new scarf, more for something to do with my hands than the pleasure of knitting really.
As we began to discuss the options, I began to wind a ball from the hank of merino wool I had sitting next to the couch. Within 20 minutes, it was a perfect ball and I had grabbed the first pattern that I saw, and began counting. It was a way to delay the inevitable. I didn’t want to think about this precious little bundle that would never take a breath in this world.
Sometime around 11, I finally collapsed into bed. I was up again at 4 am, waiting for a phone call from the Dr. She said she wouldn’t call until 7, but I wasn’t taking chances. I was supposed to be fasting, so I spent the morning walking on the treadmill trying to ease my stress and anxiety. It didn’t work. I worked a few more rows into my scarf.
We finally went to the hospital where they attempted to induce labor. I kept knitting. I brought that scarf with me and knitted on it as if with every stitch I could make myself forget why I was lying in a hospital bed.
The nurses seemed to know that I needed time alone, or else to be distracted completely. Ben played a few hands of cards with me. Then he read to me from the book I brought. Then I would knit some more.
I spent the entire weekend, sleeping, forgetting, remembering, and knitting.
When I finally finish this scarf, it will hold so many memories. It may be painful to wear it, or it may be a comfort. I don’t know yet. But I’ll finish it; knitting and purling all my grief into one garment.