Stitches in Time

It's gray outside (again), but the sun is shining in my soul.

I spoke up.

I said what I needed to say.

To review: Evan and his girlfriend are having a baby and that they're not in a good financial position to raise a child. I started making blankets and shoes but have moved on to sleepers and tiny gowns. My mother has been making bibs and changing pads and other darling little things.

Newsflash: My niece is pregnant. 25 and not married, she faces an uphill sled. The baby's father is 35 and not very involved in her life. She's barely supporting herself at this point.

Immediately, my mother kicked into high gear preparing for this baby, who isn't due until the end of September. Things she had been making for my granddaughter were pushed aside into drawers and boxes. The two of us went to Babies R Us yesterday, and everything she bought or looked at was for my niece's baby.

When my kids were small, their clothes were works of art. We embroidered and smocked and appliqued and painted on every single piece. Except the "we" was actually "me." My sister had three children; I had two. My sister was always in the middle of some crisis or another. When we got together to sew, I worked on things for my children. Mom and Deb worked on things for hers.

Debbie's children have heirlooms mine do not--beautiful pieces with shadow work and smocking and hand applique lovingly stitched by their grandmother.

Twenty-some years ago, I said nothing. Not when Mom smocked dresses for all the girls but Katie. Not when she spent weeks making Christmas outfits for all the children but mine. Not when she made entire spring wardrobes for Deb's kids and asked what I planned to make for mine.

All these years later, the same situation is developing. From the get go, Mom is pointing out the reasons my niece's baby will need help more than Evan's. Evan has the trust fund, so his basic expenses are covered. Last week, the trust administrator agreed to pay for the baby's health insurance and some other expenses, which is a load off my mind. My niece has no such back-up.

I understand and agree my niece needs help. To tell the absolute truth, years ago I understood why Deb needed help. I am willing to help. I am not willing for my granddaughter to miss out on heirlooms from her great-grandmother.

Today I told Mom this, quietly; graciously; emphatically. I mentioned how precious these heirlooms are and said I wanted my grandaughter to have them, too.

It might sound like a small thing, but it's enormous in my world.

E. Nor. Mous.