every girl needs a goal

While my Dad was in surgery, we waited. And waited. And waited. It was Suessian waiting:

We waited in a hospital.
We waited in the hall.
We waited on the stairs.
We waited on a lumpy couch with our legs folded up like beach chairs.
We waited in the first room.
We waited in the second room.
We waited all day long.

Amidst all this waiting, another waiting lady asked me what I was knitting. Before I could answer, my stepmom said, “She’s knitting a baby sweater. She always knits baby sweaters.” I let out a nervous little giggle. The kindly lady asked after my baby who wears all of these sweaters and, of course, I had to admit that there isn’t any baby. I stammered something about liking the quick satisfaction of the tiny form, about knowing a lot of babies, but I could also feel my cheeks reddened. I was busted as mommy-knitter-wanna-be. How embarrassing to be uncovered—though fully clothed—in a hospital waiting room.


I wasn’t knitting this during the inquisition. It was already off the needles and on its way to Boston last week for Alexandra, the tiny baby who met the world fourteen weeks before she said she would. The micro-preemie pattern is here. And here’s my ravelry link. Somehow I managed figure out the itty-bitty hat in my head and so it’s without a real pattern, but instead the result of much looking. I’m calling it the every-girl-needs-a-goal cardigan because it should fit when she’s tipping the scales at about 4lbs, a long way to go right now, but a worthy goal for a little gal.