as i sat in the corner chair in the parent lounge, waiting for the next hour when we could visit again, i felt a great need to do something. with my hands. the idle time was unbearable. my mind often wanted to veer off course. to imagine the worse. i needed an outlet. i needed to create. so i started a quilt. a teeny, tiny, little quilt. with hearts. not just for valentine's day...
but also as a reminder of the valiant fight sarah was demonstrating. i didn't have much time, or much fabric. but then my six month old daughter was a mere eighteen inches long and was loosing weight faster than she was gaining it.
i needle turn appliqued four small hearts onto a square of muslin. i embroidered four hearts with red floss. and then i chain stitched her name in the center. during my next visit to her bedside, i tenderly placed the quilt upon her bruised and limp body, being careful to not disturb any tubes or wires. soon after, the machine monitoring her heart rate beeped. the nurse told me that meant she was happy. and that meant for a moment, i was happy. that tiny little quilt meant something to my girl. and that gave me a new sense of hope. sarah's quilt continued to give her comfort for the many months of her recovery.
for a few years i carried it with me when i would talk to groups about having a medically fragile child. i took it to a few needle and quilt guilds in the early 90's, then i tucked it away for safe keeping. until last year december. the fat quarter shop was doing a giveaway for l'amour by sandy gervais. they asked for a letter to be written to santa to explain why you would like to win, so i did. unbeknown to me, one of sarah's nurses from so many years before had been reading her blog. she left a comment asking if we still had the quilt. so i went searching.
