Every piece has a story

I just finished this sampler, a project I started back in the fall of 1998.  Yes, it took me 13 years to finish it, and while I am a bit embarrassed to admit it took me this long, I am proud of myself for finally getting it done.  I think a project that covers this much time deserves a bit of a backstory.  This is a winding tale with an unresolved ending, so consider yourself forewarned.

After I graduated from college I got a job working as an aide in a school for children with autism spectrum disorders in Surrey, England, which is just outside of London.  My job was to assist the children in whatever way I could during their school day.  In addition to learning basic academics, there was a large focus on learning functional skills, in part to aid with fine motor development.  Enter cross stitch.  I remember being amazed at the beautiful work that these young students were creating and feeling inspired to try it myself.  I popped into a little shop on the high street and got my first bit of fabric and floss and made the little piece below.  I found the work to be tremendously enjoyable and wanted to do more.

I took every advantage of my time in England to visit many incredible museums.  My favorite by far was the Victoria and Albert.  I fondly remember spending hours there on the weekends most notably in the textile gallery, pulling out glass encased samplers dating back hundreds of years.  I remember wondering about the women (and girls) who had made these incredible works.  What were their lives like?  What were they thinking about while they worked?  How fortunate it was that someone had loved and cherished these works so much that they had been preserved for hundreds of years so that I could now sit before them looking at each stitch. I also remember frequenting antique shops, hoping that maybe I could find one of these lovely samplers to bring home as a souvenir (I quickly learned that they were WELL outside of my budget).

So, in typical fashion, I decided to create my own.  When I came back to the states after living abroad for about six months, I was lucky enough to find an amazing sampler kit by Alyce Schroth at an overstocks store near where my parents were living in Maryland.  I think I paid something really ridiculous (like $5) for this historically accurate kit, complete with linen and naturally dyed silk floss.

I began working with gusto, spending time in the evenings stitching while watching television after work.  A few months after starting this piece, my husband asked me to marry him, and my goal was to be able to finish this sampler in time for our wedding so that I could include the date and make it that much more meaningful.  I had one year, and I thought that should be no problem as I was making excellent progress.

Even though we had a very small wedding (just our immediate family) it was still a good bit of work.  I was also working full time and prepping applications for graduate school.  I was probably 80% finished with the sampler by the time of our wedding.   I set a new goal, which was to finish it in time to move into our first house, which was to be another year in the future.  One year to finish the last 20%, no problem, right?

I think I got another 10% finished that second year, but the process of applying to grad school and buying a new house are even MORE stressful than planning a wedding.  I would pull the piece out whenever I was particularly stressed out or worried and would allow my mind to clear and calm as I worked each stitch. But, mostly it sat there, unfinished.

For the next ten years, I completed less than 1% per year.  I was in grad school, we were restoring a 300 year old house, and we now had cats, dogs, a garden, and eventually babies to keep us busy.  I started knitting and sewing, and with the limited time I had, it seemed more practical to make things like hats, scarves, diapers, and blankets.  I would pull this piece out when I felt the urge.  It felt somehow decadent to spend time making something of a purely decorative nature, and I liked having the connection to women from many generations past.  It also became a kind of “worry stone” and as such began to take on mixed associations for me, both positive and negative.

Almost exactly three years ago, we decided to leave our little one acre oasis in the suburbs and move to a small homestead in the country.  We got busy making a farm from scratch and having our third child.  I added spinning, dyeing, and felting to my list of fiber-related pursuits and began sewing in earnest (as I am sure all of you who read things here regularly are well aware ).  I think there must have been a period of at least a year or more when I didn’t even set eyes on this piece, let alone work on it.

So about a month ago, I was nursing Baby M when I felt something funny in my breast.  It was a small, hard lump, about the size of a pea.  Being a modern woman who tries to live a healthy life, I have been performing regular breast exams for years.  Feeling that little lump was heart stopping.  The rational part of my brain went over the fact that I have zero risk factors (no family history, first pregnancy before 30, nursed all three children, for a total of almost six years and still counting).  I called my midwife and we scheduled an appointment for a few weeks in the future, as she stated it is very normal for women to develop changes in their breasts as they get older and are nursing, and that these changes can be related to their monthly cycle.  She wanted me to complete a cycle and see if this was the case.  Lots of women get lumps in their breasts, for a number of reasons, and this was most likely not a big deal.

A week before my scheduled appointment, the lump was still there.  There was no change, and thankfully no pain, swelling, redness, etc.    If you have never found something odd in your body, I will try to explain what was going through my mind.  While I was able to outwardly appear calm and normal, and even convince myself that everything would be fine, that in all likelihood the WORST case scenario for me would be a double mastectomy, inside I was kind of a mess.  And by “kind of” I mean imagining what it would be like for my children to grow up without me.  It was hard to quiet those voices saying, “What IF.”  Also, I think maybe I have seen the movie Terms of Endearment one too many times.  Don’t watch it unless you don’t mind crying for HOURS and HOURS.

I was organizing things in my craft area as I tend to do when I am anxious and I came across the sampler again. This piece immediately became my little talisman, whenever those voices got loud that week, I would pull it out and stitch.  It required just enough focus that I couldn’t think and stitch at the same time.

I went to my appointment with my midwife and she confirmed what I knew.  There is definitely a lump, and while it is PROBABLY, HOPEFULLY nothing, it shouldn’t be ignored.  Those little berries at the bottom of the sampler, I finished them while I was in her waiting room.  I was scheduled for a bi-lateral ultrasound of both breasts two days after that initial appointment.  I finished the border along the bottom while I sat in the radiology waiting room.  The ultrasound tech was a lovely, jovial woman.  She found the lump instantly and after a thorough scan of both breasts (and my arm pits, lymph nodes?) went to get the radiologist.  She returned with him after just a minute, he conducted his own scan and then decided to send me for a mammogram of both breasts.  I finished half of the border on the left while I sat in another waiting room.  I had my first mammogram one month shy of my 35th birthday.

I was only waiting for a few minutes between having the mammogram completed and going to talk to the radiologist.  Back to my stitches, keeping me calm, grounded, tethered.  Because when you are sitting in a waiting room, trying really hard not to think the worst, it helps to have something lovely to focus on.  Plus (and I know this is irrational, but this is what I thought) I was not going to leave my children orphans with this piece of cross stitch that I had started 13 years ago (with plans to finish for my wedding day, first house, etc.) unfinished.

So, the good news was that my mammograms looked great EXCEPT for that one, pesky lump.  There was nothing in my lymph nodes either, thankfully.  And, while I could wait and see what this little lump does over the next few months, I have chosen to have a core needle biopsy done to rule out anything more serious.  It is PROBABLY nothing.  But if it isn’t I will be taking advantage of everything modern medicine has to offer to make sure that I am around for a good long time.

While I waited for Mike to come and pick me up from the ultrasound/mammogram appointment, I finished all but the last two inches of the border of the left.  I worked outside on a bench in the warm October sunshine.  Two older woman who were also waiting outside came over to chat about my piece.  They both spoke about doing cross stitch in their younger years and were curious about what stitches I was using, the design, etc.  It felt so nice to feel that connection to countless generations of women.  If I had just been sitting there doing nothing or texting or surfing Facebook, would they have come up to me?  I really doubt it.  I am glad that they did.  The smile and kind words of a stranger can be amazingly powerful.

So, after 13 years, this piece is finally finished.  I will be sending it out for custom framing, something I have never before done, but I think will be well worth it.  Every time I look at this piece, I will think of all of the major life events that were incorporated into every stitch.  When I see other samplers, I will always wonder what was happening in the lives of the women who made them, were they also seeking a feeling of calm while riding a sea of chaos?

My biopsy is likely to take place next week (it hasn’t yet been scheduled, I am waiting for my docs to converse about my case).  I have to partially wean Baby M from that side so as to avoid some complications, but after a few days, he should be back nursing on both sides.  I hate to leave a story unfinished, but I promise to keep you posted.

I am linking this up to the Celebrate Color event at Stitched in Color.  I think the colors are perfect for fall, plus, it feels good to feel that connection to other women who have all been stitching away this past month.  I wonder if any of them has a story similar to mine?  While I hope not, I imagine that, in all likelihood, some of them were also easing their worries with each and every stitch.

 

******************UPDATE**********************

So, the great news is that my biopsy came back as totally fine.  I have an enflamed galactocele, which is essentially a permanent plugged duct.  It has no health risks and will go away once I am done nursing.  Huge sigh of relief!

*And, as if life needed to get any more ironic, I just learned that October is, you guessed it, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.