Waiting

I started this baby blanket in middle school, when my mom taught me to crochet. I needed a project that was more than just a scarf (which I didn’t like because of the pattern/design of crochet stitches) or roses or a square, but wasn’t an entire granny blanket.

But it feels like the minute I finish this blanket, contractions will start and the baby will come out. Which is ironic. Because, if finishing the blanket is all it takes to have a baby, I had two decades to finish this blanket. Actually. Not that I wanted a baby in middle school, of course. But I could have finished this thing at any point in time in my adult life. I’ve always had in my home, wherever I’ve moved, aside from the one year in Japan. And yet I never touched it. Only once, I pulled it out and actually did a bit of stitching on it. I enjoyed that. But then I put the blanket away and left it for several more years. Now, here I am, nine months pregnant, seemingly unable to progress to the stage of labor. And I can just see the irony of finishing the blanket and then going right into labor. It would be a beautiful irony, to be sure, and I know God had a sense of humor.

Ugh.

God, help me to release this baby from my body, please. Grant us safety and easy and full health and holiness. Make us all well and keep us all safe, please. Thank you for this marriage and home and baby. In your name, I pray. Amen.

Post-a-day 2025