My Crochet Journey: Finding Calm in the Storm

In Part 1 of my crochet journey, I shared how I first learned the craft in college, set it aside for years, and then found my way back through teaching my daughter (and making a very questionable duck). But the real heart of this story comes after that, when crochet became more than a hobby.

This part of my story is raw and honest. I talk about postpartum struggles, loss, and illness. If you’re not in a place to read that right now, you may want to skip to the next section. Crochet brings light to the story, I promise.

This part of my story is raw and honest. I talk about postpartum struggles, loss, and illness. If you’re not in a place to read that right now, you may want to skip to the next section. Crochet brings light to the story, I promise.

By 2024, life had become unbearably heavy. I was three months postpartum, getting ready to return to work, when we got the call that my mom had triple-negative breast cancer. It felt like I was walking from one storm straight into another. The truth is, the storms had already been there for years. It started when my mom had a stroke, and I lost my grandmother on the very same day. I fought my way through grad school while caring for her, and right after graduation, I landed in the ICU with COVID. That year ended with me saying goodbye to the kitten I had just adopted after getting home from the hospital. His little body was filling with fluid from a disease we couldn’t fix.

Not long after, I found myself in an unexpected high-risk pregnancy. That ended with a traumatic birth where my newborn daughter was taken to the NICU, and I wasn’t allowed to hold her for almost 48 hours. Not because of her condition, but because the doctors refused to let me due to an IV placement. I missed out on that golden hour, the start of breastfeeding, and the simple joy of holding my baby. By the time my maternity leave ended, I was drowning in postpartum depression, and then cancer was added to the pile.

I wasn’t in a good place. I needed an escape. I needed something to keep my mind quiet and my hands busy so the dark thoughts didn’t win. Crochet gave me exactly that.

A close-up of hands expertly crocheting a cozy sweater with dark, multicolored yarn, showcasing intricate stitches against the backdrop the transfusion room of the Cancer Center

I threw myself into it, probably in an obsessive way. I crocheted for hours every single day. When I went with my mom to her chemo appointments, I brought my giant bag of yarn because I never knew what I would want to work on. Some days it was a sweater, other days tiny crochet flowers. That bag was a conversation starter with the older ladies who crocheted too, and it gave us a sense of connection in a room where everyone was carrying something heavy. Those appointments lasted for hours. My mom would be sleeping in a reclining chair, hooked up to all the meds, while I sat in an uncomfortable waiting room chair, crocheting until it was finally time to go home.

At home, I crocheted every chance I could get. Some of my favorite moments came after the house was finally quiet at night. Everyone was asleep, and I would have an audiobook playing while I stitched for hours. The stillness, the story in my ears, and the rhythm of the yarn in my hands were the closest I came to peace in that season.

When I was working on a pattern, there wasn’t room for intrusive thoughts. When I was learning a new stitch, I couldn’t sit in grief. Crochet didn’t solve my life, but it gave me breathing space. It gave me peace.

Maybe it was avoidance.

Maybe it was survival.

But it was mine.

Crochet carried me through 2024 alive.

Coming soon: In Part 3, I’ll share how my crochet journey shifted from survival to healing, and how that eventually sparked the birth of my Soulnuk symbol.