Dear Jack,

We haven’t met yet – but as we speak you are far away across the country, wrapped in a symbol of my tremendous affection for your wee self – your baby blanket. I know you’re very, very young and quite new around here and you don’t know much about knitting, but but let me tell you a thing or two about having a baby blanket. They take a long time to make. Many, many hours, days and weeks go into making a knitted thing for someone, and that means that whomsoever made the knitted thing for you thought of you for all of those hours and days and weeks, and thought that you were deserving of having that much of their life and time dedicated to you. You’re that important, wee Jack.

In your case, I also think particularly well of your Mum and Dad. Me and Joe (you’ll learn about him later, he’s very fun and loyal and rather hairy, sort of like a very big, very clever dog- You’ll learn about dogs later too) met your parents when they’d only recently come to Canada, and they were so young and nice and their own parents were far away, so we took an interest. We know we weren’t going to be a huge help because Joe and Lucy (you might have heard those names, that’s what we call your mummy and daddy) were still quite far from us too. We were at least in the same country though, and we thought that might be something. Turns out that really you’ve lucked out in the parent department, and they’ve got on perfectly. We drove across the country for their wedding and gosh, what a day. I know you probably have other things on your mind, but know that if you grow up to be as kind, funny, loving and constant as your father, you’ll do just fine – and if you turn out like your loving, thoughtful, sincere and charming mother that wouldn’t be a crime either. They are just the best sort of people -Anyway, on to the blanket, eh tot?

I have made many baby blankets Jack, and each and every one of them is unique. I think long and hard about how you got to be here, the things I think will represent your special story and things that will (when you are bigger, I understand that symbolism is lost on most people who are only days old) help you build a sense of the family you were born into, and the person you will become.

I start with the centre Jack, and yours is a field of leaves – meant to invoke the out-of-doors your parents love to be in, no matter where they roam in the world. Everywhere they are- in Norfolk or Banff, Queensland or Ontario, all places of the world I know they will share with you as you get bigger, a canopy of trees is overhead, gardens grow nearby and the smell of green and growing things drifts over your family. I know it’s coming to the end of a long Canadian winter and that’s all you’ve known, my wee beast – but the sweet and brief summer is coming, and you’ll love leaves when you meet them. These leaves also are a nod to your growing family tree – the branch that your parents have started, and the new leaf that is you.

Around that field of leaves is a tiny border of bitty hearts – for the month of February you were born in, and because even before you were born Jack, you had become the centre of your parents hearts – their dearest little love.

Sweet bairn, around that is a border of an old English pattern called Rose Trellis. See the roses climbing on the diamonds? This pattern is meant to invoke an English garden, and to remind you of your grandmothers. I am a grandmother, and I am here to tell you that their love is something you can count on now and every day that they live. There is an Italian proverb that says “If nothing is going well, call your grandmother” and Jack, this is great advice. I’ve met both your Grandmothers and I can tell you this: Not a day will go by that they will not wish to have you with them, and not a day that either of them would be willing to cross the sea if you asked them to. Distance is nothing to a grandmothers heart, and having a little grandson myself, I don’t think it’s much to a grandkid either. Your grandparents are going to be your strongest supporters and your biggest fans and you can count on them. I know that they feel so lucky that you have been born.

Beyond the very English garden looms the very Canadian Rocky Mountains. You are a first generation Canadian Jack, the child of immigrants and now a native citizen of the most beautiful country in the world (at least most Canadians think so) and you’ll grow up with those very mountains looking on you every day. We met your mum and dad because of those mountains, They live here because of them, and they were wed on the side of a mountain with the glorious range all around. Your parents are at home here – amongst the bears and the glaciers, the snow and the wildflowers, the striking blue lakes, the shimmering rivers and the spectacular peaks and trees. I am quite sure there will be some considerable debate about if you will be a skier or a snowboarder Jack, but Joe and I have already decided to stay out if it. Your orientation won’t matter to us at all and we can love you no matter who you are or what you love. I can’t wait to see you grow the same sense of belonging for the great wild places of this country – just as your folks and many aunties and uncles have. You live in a remarkable, beautiful place, and it is the sort of place that shapes people.

The border of your blanket- the part that goes all around the outside, is made up of waves. Great cresting waves, to symbolize how much of who you are and were you come from is reflected by your relationship with water. It goes without saying that your parents have a wonderful connection to the water around where you live – if your mum hasn’t already thought about when she can get you in a canoe I’d be surprised, and already you’ve met a great deal of water- albeit rather frozen. These waves are for the water near where you live, that your parents love to be in and on, they are for the water they crossed to come to Canada and the waves are to remind you that this is all that separates you from your English family – who live across the pond and many, many waves. For the English seaside you’ll visit, for the beaches and oceans you’ll see – and finally, for the water you came from yourself, born on a wave, already shepherded by your strong and lovely mum.

All of this together in one knitted thing is all that I hope for you wee Jack. The strength of mountains, the constancy of lapping waves. The sweet green leaves of the world all around you, and the enduring help of a family, as beautiful as roses and your own garden. This blanket is soft and it is big enough that you will fit under it your whole life, and I hope it’s a long-serving reminder of all the gifts and strengths you were born with.

You are a most welcome, hoped for and loved child, welcome, welcome, welcome.

Love,

Stephanie

But wait there’s more

I was just sitting here wondering how I catch you all up on everything from the last little bit because there has been so very, very much and I thought I’d start there. Holy cats, wing of moth, what a lot has happened – or maybe it’s not really that much and just feels like it because of one enormous thing that’s made everything else so much trickier.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have been feeling like trash. No- wait. Hot trash. I’ve been catching everything that goes by for ages and never feeling like I catch up health-wise which leads to me feeling really behind on everything else (because I am) which was stressing me out and making me feel worse, and then I had several really scary … episodes, is I guess what you’d call them, and the whole thing culminated in a really terrible trip to the ER on Family Day weekend, which then wound up being emergency major abdominal surgery two days later. 0/10, do not recommend, and it was such a traumatic experience that I don’t even want to write about it yet.

I do recommend having fantastic kids and a great husband who all busted a move taking care of me and replacing my efforts around the house once I got home. I felt so crummy for the first week afterwards that not much of anything happened, though when conscious I did make really decent progress on that baby blanket I was working on the last time we spoke.

Me and the blanket, tucked up in bed together. A romance for the ages. Pattern is all mine, of course, and the yarn is Juniper Moon Pategonia.

I was supposed to fly out for a visit to a friend just a week after surgery, and then go on to the Spring Retreat at Port Ludlow, but my surgeon said I couldn’t fly for two weeks so I rearranged everything, cried into my pillow a little, and then put all my efforts into making sure that I was in the best possible shape to go and work at the retreat. (Also, I finished that baby blanket, I’ll show it to you when the recipients are in possession of it. It’s still making it’s way to them and I don’t want to spoil the surprises.)

Let me tell you – the day that I headed to the airport to wing my way west, I was not my usual chipper self. I managed to get it together by the time I got there, and Debbi’s a formidable powerhouse who made the whole thing possible but I am convinced that it was the power of my will and how much I love the retreats and the knitters that come to them that got me through that thing.

Another distraction, and proof that I do indeed finish things. This is Delightful Dots – yarn is from Lamb and Kid.

When I got home I went to bed and… well. I stayed there for about 24 hours – I think I slept almost 14 hours straight, and when I got up I was determined. I was saying all sorts of things like “enough is enough” and “time to get it together” and boy was I sick of not being well. I was tired of the restriction that I can’t lift anything, tired of being exhausted by the end of every day – absolutely fed up with wasting time on crap like naps and early bedtimes and stupid rests with lame cups of tea. I got up and I gave the week my all. Determined to muscle through we celebrated Charlotte’s birthday and gathered to observe the anniversary of her death, and I cooked and cleaned and organized and I suppose what happened was predictable.

I am here distracting you with a picture of my finished February Socks. Yarn is Jadawoo Designs in “forest moss” and the pattern is Siroc.

It didn’t work. All I’ve been trying to do is go, go, go, and all I hear from my body is no, no, no, so for the next few days I’m going to give up, as gracefully as humanly possible. I’m going to knit. I’m going to work quietly at my desk. I’m going back to rests and naps and lame cups of tea. (I actually like tea, I don’t know why I’m so mad at it.) I’ve started another baby blanket, if you can believe it – one more epic and then I think there’s a lull in the baby train for a bit. I’m only at the centre for this one, if I can truly rest and knit today then I’ll be blocking it tonight, and pick up all around for the edging tomorrow.

Yarn is still Juniper Moon Pategonia. Pattern is still all mine.

This one’s got a pretty epic set of borders, so the middle is comparatively wee. Tonight while it’s blocking (do you hear that optimism it is so impressive) I’m going to work on my SISC socks.

Yarn is Northbound Knitting MCN in Metallurgy, Pattern is Footsie.

Shocker – I’m behind on these. The rules (they are my rules so I can break as many as I want) of the Self-Imposed-Sock-Club say that I’m to knit 10 rounds per sock per day – but it turns out that there’s an invisible asterisk by that rule, and it reads “unless I am rushing a blanket”. So.. behind I am, and it feels right and valid – at least when it comes the socks.

Sigh.