Last April, I started my first big crochet project, following a fab course.
I was feeling like change was imminent, and I felt pretty inevitable, so the thought of making a lap blanket wasn't too daunting.
The pattern was chosen to look like interference on a tv screen (and I was tired of seeing the gentle ripples all over blogland), and the colours were chosen to cater for the fact that we hadn't decided what colour to decorate the living room.
Not long after starting it, I injured my knee, so it was a good "stuck at home" project.
Then I found out that I was pregnant, and had cosy thoughts about the 3 of us snuggled under it.
When I lost the baby, I didn't stop working on the blanket. Crochet doesn't come easily to me, like knitting does, so the fact that I had to keep my mind focussed on a simple set of instructions was really helpful - it meant I couldn't think about anything else.
After my second miscarriage, the blanket got thrown aside, it felt full of bad luck. Also, my crochet mentor decided that she didn't want me in her life at all, making the project seem even more doomed.
This is what I've learned. Things change, and these changes are sometimes so hard that you think you can't get through them. It's fine to lick your wounds for a while, because the world will still be turning when you're feeling brave enough to face it again.
18 months after I started it, the blanket is complete. It's now going to be a pram blanket for the little one, who is due in January.
Looking over it, as I sewed in the ends (ugh), I realised that, despite the turmoil, it's incredibly neat and even.
Every stitch is a tribute to perserverance, and the people who made the journey with me.
