flashing back

I am thinking back tonight. I am remembering the past 2 years and moments from them like bright flashes that flare up in an instant out of nowhere. Tiny match flares that spark a fire of memory.
I am knitting a baby blanket. It is special As all are. It is for a new life cherished and beloved although not yet out breathing air among us. It is my best friends baby. A rainbow baby (I have just heard that term and love it). A little boy blessed with 2 amazing parents and an angel sister.  Knitting his blanket is physically different than any other blanket I've knitted. It is black. It is bold. It will have a Batman insignia on it. Because this kid is genetically destined to be as fearless and cool as batman. He has a roller derby mom and a mountain man dad. His big sister defied every odd to breathe for an hour and spread hope joy and love in her short short life.
I can't help but think of the last blanket I was making for my friend. I started it in February.  It was cold and grey then too. But that blanket was bright and pink and happy and lacy. It was girly and pretty. It was bold and happy. I brought it with me as I left for a business trip lasting 4 days. I think I saw a Facebook post or a text right before boarding that stopped me cold. I prayed and knitted the whole flight. I finally was able to talk with her at my first destination.  She had pre eclampsia.  She was hospitalized.  The baby was measuring a week or more behind. I had read enough and researched enough in my IF history (as well as being induced for the same disease myself) to be terrified for her. She wasn't even 24 weeks. It was far too soon. Please let them be ok I begged over and over as my fingers somehow remembered the pattern growing the blanket from a few rows to inches.
Landing in the city of flashing lights and gambling and non stop excitement and I just kept checking for updates. She was being induced.  Labor was not kind. Hours passed. Prep for c section.  And silence. The heartbreaking text I can't even imagine a father having the strength to write. And me on the other side of the country just wishing I could be there for them.
That blanket became a shrug. A shawl with arms to hold my friend and keep a piece of her daughter. She wore it the day of her memorial. The only stipulation was to wear bright colors. No somber black. The blanket was to be bright pink. The shawl matched her dress perfectly.
This blanket is different.  This baby different. I know my friend is comparing too. Analyzing every week. Every scan. Every movement and change in her body. Hoping it is different this time. This blanket is very different.  Yet the love I feel for her, for them, is the same. Pink and black.  Black for batman's strength. Pink for the love and hope. Intertwined and separate. I am also looking at the same work trip this year. But it falls right around her carefully planned delivery. And I hope to have this blanket done before then so as to not tempt comparison anymore.