Knitting Hugs

A few months ago, a friend of my husband contacted him with a request for me.  M is a nurse who works in the pediatric NCIU at a local hospital.  Although we had not met in person, M and I had become friends on Facebook due to our love of knitting and books. 

The kiddies were in bed and John and I were (gasp) relaxing on the couch.  He was catching up on his Facebook news feed while I was knitting.  John broke the silence.

“M wants to know if you could knit some blankets for the babies in her unit.  She felt odd asking you directly.”

“Why would she feel odd asking me that?”  I asked as I looked up from my project.

“It is for the babies who don’t make it,” he replied.  “Apparently, a lot of people get weirded out at the thought and refuse to make the blankets for them.”

I have to admit that I felt a bit weirded out at the prospect myself.  Usually, I knit something out of happiness- a birth, a “thinking of you” gift.  It seemed wrong to connect my knitting to something as dreadful as the loss of an infant.  And then, my sense of obligation kicked in.  A while back Angela had to stay in the hospital for epilepsy testing.  Everything turned out fine, but those were probably two of the most stressful and anxious days/nights of my life.  While we were there, one of the nurses came in with a handmade blanket for Angela.  It was love at first snuggle for her.  When I saw the joy that blanket brought to her, I made an internal pledge to knit something for the hospital. 

When the universe is so direct, one has no choice.  It was time to repay my debt.

“Tell M I would be happy to do it,” I told John.  “Have her email me the specifics like yarn type and size.” 

About a week later, M emailed me and I headed to the store to pick up some yarn for the blankets.  I looked at all the baby yarns with a heavy heart and finally selected a super soft and cuddly light pink.  When I got home, I looked through my knitting encyclopedia for a suitable stitch pattern.  I knit up my gauge swatch, did the necessary math, and wrote my pattern.  I put the project away and got caught up in the hustle and bustle of my typical day.  Still, even the rushing to dance and helping with homework, did not distract me enough from my thoughts about the family that would receive this blanket.  It upset me that sorrow would greet something I crafted loop by loop.  Then, a profound realization came over me that lifted my sadness and replaced it with a sense of purpose.  It is only in our modern times that death of a loved one has become such an isolated event.  It is odd how in this time of seeming interconnectedness we have actually become more alone.  Death used to be more of a community thing.  Mary did not go to prepare her son’s crucified body alone.  Other women came to assist her and to provide comfort.  Just as there used to be community quilting bees for happy events, those women would also prepare burial cloths.  And then, another thought came to me.  I was not creating a shroud for a lost baby.  Rather, I was creating a hug for that baby’s family.  I was providing them not only with a tangible reminder of their departed angel but with a sense that they did not have to shoulder their grief alone.  Somewhere out there was someone who acknowledged their loss.  There was someone who saw that their child’s birth and brief presence on this earth deserved acknowledgement through a handmade gift.

The other day M informed me that the two pink blankets I crafted went to a set of micro preemies.  I prayed for the family and went to the craft store for some more yarn.  I need to knit some more hugs.