Magic In Your Hands
There is magic in your hands when you create clothing for your
baby, the magic of a mother's love that is never, ever
completely forgotten.
It's is a magic that transcends the colors, the styles, even the
quality of the handiwork. It's as if every stitch and every knot
was imbued with the love of the hands that crafted them. It
seemed natural that when I was carrying my first child, that I
picked up crochet hook and thread and started making the
clothing she'd wear home from the hospital.
It was my grandmother who taught me to crochet the moment my
clumsy, chubby fingers could hold a crochet hook. I had just
turned seven. Granny use to hand me her sewing needles to thread
for when her eyes could no longer see the needle's eye. She's
been dead for many years now but every time I lift up the
knitting needles I can't help but think of her.
When I was eight, my mother spent long hours making me a spring
wardrobe that I can still describe in minute detail, right down
to the rick-rack that trimmed the red kerchief that matched the
tulip sprigged sleeveless dress. I can recall precisely the
colors and patterns of the nightgowns my grandmother sewed for
me. She use to work nights in the local hospital and on quiet
nights it gave her an opportunity to, 'catch up on herself.'
Ask my brothers and they'll tell you that they've never worn
anything so warm and comfortable as Grannies knitted socks. I
even remember the weight of the stocking cap my mother knit to
match the checkerboard cardigan - that matched the blue one she
knit for my brother.
But making clothing for babies is more than a way to save money
or create unique clothing styles. It's a way to surround them
with love, to weave your wishes into the fabric as you shape and
create each piece. You couldn't buy the love that goes into a
little pair of baby socks.
Over the years, I have sewn, knit and crocheted sweaters,
sunsuits, dresses, short sets, blankets, quilts, hats and pants
for all five of my children. Beginning with their homecoming
outfit, each of them had special clothes that I'd designed and
created just for them. I would say that it is perhaps a conceit,
a fond wish of my own that my feelings about dressing my babies
with my own hands would have transferred themselves to my
children - except:
A month ago, I dropped by my daughter's apartment. The baby girl
I dressed in a strawberry printed romper - each stich carefully
placed by hand, each with a whispered wish and a blessing for
her good fortune - is 22 now, a college graduate with a home of
her own. Tossed over a table in the corner is a blanket I
crocheted for her when she was three from odds and ends of yarn.
On her walls are pictures of herself wearing a sweater I made
for her - the same sweater, at 3, at 5, at 7. The same sweater
now clothes the teddy bear sitting on her dresser.
My 20 year old son, fully grown and living on his own, still
owns the knit baby blanket that wrapped him on his trip home
from the hospital. He creates and makes his own clothes -
imaginative and unusual - and in the patches on his jeans and
his jackets, I find bits and pieces of shirts and shorts and
sweaters I made for him over the years.
My 16 year old has tucked away the first party dress I made for
her - when she was six months old. She never said a word to me
about it - I found it in her 'treasure memory box'. And the two
youngest boys? At 10 and 12, they each have their favorite
blanket - ones that I knit for them when they were born.
There is magic in your hands when you create clothing for your
baby, the magic of a mother's love that is never, ever
completely forgotten.