Yes, I admit it. I am now spending a lot of my precious knitting time reading pregnancy books and guides. But hey, childbirth is serious business and I am not going to take it lying on my back! (I crack myself up, bahdum ching!) But I am giving it my all to finish up a few more projects before my arduously enjoyable stitching is constantly interrupted by the crying, er, um, cooing of babes.
As with most things in my life right now, even knitting has become a analogous with my journey through pregnancy. In quite a few books, I have come across the idea that babies are born when they are ready. That miracle of biochemistry, hormones, and infinite spiritual connection between mother and child prompts both bodies into the dance of labor (can't wait to go to that sock hop...).
I think of all my knitting projects as babies somehow. Some are born quickly and painlessly; some are the worst back labor you can ever imagine. And then there are some that just don't want to be born. A point in case: the black socks which weren't meant to be (at least for the moment).
First, I always cast on at least twice with every first sock. I don't know why, but I think it has to do with the fact that I just can't count. Then, I picked several different challenging patterns thinking that I might actually be up for some lacy action. Thought wrong on that and dropped far too many stitches to decipher in a haze of black fuzz. And reduced to the reality of only being able to do some kind of ribbing or basket weave pattern, I cast on again....six times. And then it dawned on me. These socks are simply not meant to be born right now. I guess that means I better start knitting a baby cardigan or some booties real soon.
Knit well and knit often.