The night before the baby shower, I stood there, staring at it. I felt ... something hard to put into words. Joy, relief, some trepidation, a few other emotions I can't put names to, all crystallized into one moment.
"That's pretty cool," my husband joined me in staring at it briefly.
"I've finished it, and that means she's having a baby."
He looked at me curiously, "How long have you been working on it?"
The answer to that starts with a statement. This baby blanket did not start because someone called me and said they were pregnant. This blanket was cast on with the knowledge that one day a specific someone would tell me they were pregnant and would be given this blanket. The minute I saw this pattern, I knew I would knit it and I knew who I would knit it for. I bought the yarn and cast on the blanket in June of 2011. I got nearly finished and then put the whole thing into hibernation. It felt wrong to finish it before there was a baby to finish it for. So it sat. And sat. Never once did I doubt it would get finished. Never once did I wonder if I should just finish it and give it to someone else. Not. Once.
A little less than two years later, I got the call that I'd been waiting for to finish it. I did a happy dance. A silly, stupid, crazy, I'm-happier-now-than-when-I-knew-I-was-having-a-baby happy dance. I was at my LYS, where they know that I very rarely break out in great moments of gleeful foolishness. Whatever it was, they knew, it was something EPIC. Finally, the baby I had been wishing for, the bright shining light of wonder at the end of a long, painful, hopeful road for the dearest of dear couples, was on his way. So I went into the bin of hibernating projects, pulled it out, and finished it.