Something for Calvin
Three years ago, I sewed this cap and blanket from a pillow case. It was the pillow case Louie used when we were in the hospital to deliver Calvin. I remember sitting in my parents’ car, determined to finish it on our way to the funeral home, where we would make the final arrangements for his cremation. I wish I could have placed this tiny hat on his head and wrapped him in this little blanket. Instead, I held out my palm and made my request: could they put these on my baby before he was cremated? Even though I never got the chance to see Calvin in his hat and blanket, it means so much to have been able to make these things for him, something touched by his mommy and daddy to take with him.
Something for Charlie
I was scared to even hope that I could carry Charlie to term, but here we are: 37 weeks and 2 days. Whenever I think about how close we are to bringing him home, about how far into this pregnancy I have carried him, I start tearing up. To have made it this far is amazing. I know that I can’t fully believe he *is* our take-home earth baby to-keep, not until I actually have him in my arms, but seeing my expanding belly, my ever-increasing count of stretch marks, and feeling every bump, kick, punch, and poke from him fills me with joy.
On Monday, when I reached 37 weeks, I started sewing again. I had a pair of worn Golden State Warriors pajama pants that I could no longer wear because of certain tears. So, I decided that I would use it to make something for Charlie, first, because his daddy is a huge GSW fan and, second, because I wanted to make something for him. I found a tutorial and pattern for infant scratch mittens at Home Sweet Homebodies and one for a cap at Make-your-own-baby-stuff.com. I think they look so sweet.
It’s a wonderful feeling to have made these cap and mittens for Charlie, just as I made the cap and blanket for his big brother. It makes me feel like they are connected, but in a “safe” way, if that makes any sense. There are many things that I avoided or did differently this pregnancy than with my pregnancies with Calvin, Rainbow, and Gaelen, out fear, anxiety, and, I guess, superstition—as if they could someone affect the outcome. And, honestly, as I was sewing, a part of me still thought, Even if Charlie died, he could still wear these things (is this something normal to a babyloss momma who’s waiting for a rainbow to come home?). Mostly, though, I have hope that these Warriors hat and mittens will go on the head and hands of a flailing baby boy, one whose open eyes we’ll be able to gaze into and whose cries will fill the silent spaces in our hearts that have been waiting, waiting, waiting for a child to raise on earth.
