I started knitting a blanket in early 2017. Just something to do while watching TV and if I had nothing else going on. No thought was given to this new project, I just grabbed some yarn I already had and started knitting. This blanket, the third blanket I would ever knit, had two colors, maroon and gray. I decided to do a stripe pattern, like the other two blankets I have knit. I am a very basic knitter; I always use the most basic stitch. What started as a mindless, simple project would become my therapy blanket.
Later that year, life got in the way of my knitting project. I took a break for a while, tucking my blanket and yarn into a big bag to save for later. I was working full-time and this job never had a downtime. My husband and I were stretched thin, trying to find a balance between our demanding jobs and spending as much time as we could with our son, a constantly growing toddler. There was always something going on and I did not often find myself sitting on the couch doing nothing where I could pick up the knitting and spend some time with it. The blanket was forgotten. Also, at that point, we were starting to think about baby number two.
That next year, my husband and I struggled to conceive a second child. With each loss I suffered in 2018, I would remember the blanket and dig it back out of its bag during my recovery time. I quickly picked up the stitches where I left off. It was a supplemental therapist because I was also going to actual therapy. It helped keep my mind busy instead of focusing on the loss and it helped for a while until I picked myself back up and we started over, trying again. The blanket would go back into the bag twice that year, momentarily forgotten.
In April of 2019, when I found out I was pregnant again, I instantly thought of the blanket. I didn’t dare jinx things, but a little thought in the back of my mind wouldn’t quiet down. This would be the time I finished the blanket and used it in a nursery. I knew it, in my core. But I kept the voice quiet and refused to get excited until I was halfway through my pregnancy. We found out we were having a girl at the twenty-week ultrasound, and at the appointment, I knew I would make sure to finish my therapy blanket. It wasn’t until then that I pulled that blanket out of the bag. I finished the blanket a week before I gave birth to a healthy baby girl.
Now, as I sit in the nursery with the finished blanket wrapped around my legs, the colors perfectly matching the wall decor and crib bedding, I take a moment to be thankful that a simple, mindless project that helped me cope with past pain and loss is now enveloping me and my daughter, the girl I dreamed about for two years.
