At 3 am this morning, my Mom called me to tell me that my Sister-in-law's water broke. She is only 28 weeks along.
No going back to sleep for me. So I picked up a ball of soft cotton yarn and my needles. What else can one do when one is stuck hundreds of miles away and is feeling helpless? So with each stitch I prayed. I prayed for strength. I prayed for hope. I prayed for a happy outcome.
At a little after 6 am, Mom called me again to say that Brady Miller and William Cole are here. Brady is breathing on his own, but Will is on a vent. They were rushed to the hospital in Norman, OK by ambulance, since the little regional hospital in Duncan doesn't have a NICU. Mom said they look like tiny babies, just no baby fat on them.
So, once again, I pick up my needles and yarn and do my thing. I will create something for these tiny little souls, who are bravely fighting their way to make it in this world. And with each small stitch, I will pray.