stitch

These are the things I have knitted whilst in hospital.

They bring me great joy.

As I lay them out to take these photos I am reminded of the journey they have been on.

Martha’s purple one began in the summer in Berlin and I knitted in to it the knowledge that she would wear it in a new life in Ireland. I knitted in to it the excitement and anticipation of change.

Max’s Icelandic one began in Croatia, its extreme wooliness a strange counterbalance to the 40 degree heat outside. I knitted it on bed rest in the Adriatic and it travelled with me as I worried in Wexford and as I made friends on the gynae ward downstairs. It started conversations.

I bought the wool for the smallest beige one before we even left Berlin. An act of faith. And I began making it at 24 weeks. An act of celebration that there was now a viable baby inside me, that I was now two patients not one.

The green one came next, the softest Alpaca and a permission I granted myself to day dream a little about when the baby was two, three months old and would fit in to it.

Last night, I ordered a soft grey Aran from the Falkland Islands to knit a cardigan for Max. A hand dyed oaty Merino for a bell-sleeved cardigan for Martha. And camel beige and pearl grey Alpacas for spring and next Autumn for the little one. I ordered them because the wools are irresistible and also as a secret pact with my body and mind that nothing with happen for the next 6 weeks, that I will be here in this bed winding wool around sticks until mid December.