Right after I miscarried Marley I got what I guess you could call a surge of creativity. I needed to keep my hands busy. I needed to keep my mind off things. I started a blanket with all of my scrap yarn I'd been using to make granny squares. I worked nonstop for hours on that blanket, but then felt like something was off about it and measured the width witch turned out to be just over ten feet! I decided to tear it apart and start over.
I can even begin to describe the feeling that went along with tearing it all apart. I felt like I had wasted hours of my life for no good reason. I needed to make something and it didn't happen. I was so disappointed and felt so drained I considered not trying again. Then I realized how much my feeling about the blanket aligned with how I was feeling about Marley.
I couldn't resist the idea that making the blanket might just be healing for me. It would be a physical representation of picking up the pieces of my life and putting it back together just as tearing out the original was representative of the loss itself.
I sincerely feel like I may be putting to much into a simple scrap blanket, but somehow it just feels important.
