Days after my positive pregnancy test, just two weeks ago, I ordered green yarn. I dreamed of making a teeny green sweater. I allowed myself to picture chubby little baby arms, poking out from the little sleeves. The yarn arrived the same day that our doctor told us that he was pretty sure that the pregnancy wasn't viable. The news that it was definitely not a viable pregnancy came two days later.
This isn't my only unfinished knitting. Somewhere in a closet, the "sad place" I now call it, is a box with little baby girl clothes Tiny socks. A stuffed money. And an unfinished pink baby blanket. I ordered pink yarn the day that we found out she was a girl. I dreamed of wrapping her in it to bring her home from the hospital. Laying her on it and watching her smile up at me. I was almost done with it when we found out she had died. The blanket, and the other baby things, were put away, tucked into the sad place.
The blanket remains undone. I don't know when or if it will be.
But I am knitting that tiny green sweater. As I wait to miscarry our second baby, I am knitting a baby sweater. It's comforting somehow, counting the stiches, seeing it unfold in front of me. It makes me feel like perhaps, someday, some little one will wear it.