Before I became the Handbag Lady, I made quilts. Quilting is how I began this sewing adventure. The first few were pretty rough, but I finally got the hang of it. Here are some quilts I have made:
So why did I stop?
Well, I still quilt every now and then, but certainly not as much as I used to. I was pinning a quilt this morning and started crying. Now, to an outsider they would think me mad. I will try to explain....
This is what "pinning" a quilt looks like:
Well, I still quilt every now and then, but certainly not as much as I used to. I was pinning a quilt this morning and started crying. Now, to an outsider they would think me mad. I will try to explain....
This is what "pinning" a quilt looks like:
A T-shirt quilt. Don't even think about asking if I will make another. Nope. Nada. No way.
Let me bring you up to speed: You have pieced together your top of the quilt and are ready to make your quilt sandwich. You spread your back fabric on the floor and tape it down along the edges. Then you spread the batting over top of the fabric. This stuff looks like a big, white, fluffy cloud. Next you place your quilt top and spread everything out. No wrinkles allowed! Lastly, you pin all 3 layers together. That last step involves getting down on your hands and knees and crawling all over the quilt. There are TONS of pins, folks. By the time you are finished your back hurts from leaning over.
Why would this make me cry? (It's not the back pain.... come on. I'm no weenie!)
I take you back to March 2007. I was HUGE. (200 lbs plus and pregnant with Ben.) Now, I was not a sit-back-and-relax kind of pregnant lady. Oh no. I was two weeks away from my due date and running around like a mad woman. I also was working on a quilt and it was pinning day. I laid everything out, and then I got down on my pregnant hands and knees and crawled around that quilt. I can still remember trying to work around my enormous belly. Nothing was stopping me, no way!
I got up from the floor and felt a little funny. A few minutes later, the same feeling passed over me again. The 3rd time I realized.....those were contractions.
Ben was born, and you know how that story played out.
A few weeks after we came home, Ben was sleeping and I was sitting in the living room staring at that pinned quilt. The rational, sane part of me knew that Ben came when he was supposed to. We were meant to take that journey. But the guilt-ridden, insane part of my brain blamed me. If I hadn't been so set on finishing that stupid quilt, I wouldn't have stressed Ben out that day by crawling around on the floor. I wouldn't have went into labor. He could have had 2 more weeks for those lungs to mature, and maybe, just maybe, all of this could have been avoided.
I picked up that quilt and tore it to pieces. I ripped out every pin, I ripped out every stitch.
I realize that some of you reading this are shaking your heads and saying to yourself, "That's crazy. Think of all the work you had put into it!" You feel this way for 1 of 2 reasons. Either you have never had something traumatic happen in your life (and I hope you never do....) or you simply process things differently than me. It's ok. But those of you who get it? We are not crazy.
I couldn't stand to look at that quilt one moment longer. I wanted it gone. Out of my sight. I never wanted to see it again and let it serve as a reminder of that day.
The funny thing is, I wouldn't have tried my hand at making purses if this all hadn't happened. I still wanted to create, but quilts were not an option for a while. So I made a piddly little bag. Then I made a decent little bag. And well, you know the rest.
Why would this make me cry? (It's not the back pain.... come on. I'm no weenie!)
I take you back to March 2007. I was HUGE. (200 lbs plus and pregnant with Ben.) Now, I was not a sit-back-and-relax kind of pregnant lady. Oh no. I was two weeks away from my due date and running around like a mad woman. I also was working on a quilt and it was pinning day. I laid everything out, and then I got down on my pregnant hands and knees and crawled around that quilt. I can still remember trying to work around my enormous belly. Nothing was stopping me, no way!
I got up from the floor and felt a little funny. A few minutes later, the same feeling passed over me again. The 3rd time I realized.....those were contractions.
Ben was born, and you know how that story played out.
A few weeks after we came home, Ben was sleeping and I was sitting in the living room staring at that pinned quilt. The rational, sane part of me knew that Ben came when he was supposed to. We were meant to take that journey. But the guilt-ridden, insane part of my brain blamed me. If I hadn't been so set on finishing that stupid quilt, I wouldn't have stressed Ben out that day by crawling around on the floor. I wouldn't have went into labor. He could have had 2 more weeks for those lungs to mature, and maybe, just maybe, all of this could have been avoided.
I picked up that quilt and tore it to pieces. I ripped out every pin, I ripped out every stitch.
I realize that some of you reading this are shaking your heads and saying to yourself, "That's crazy. Think of all the work you had put into it!" You feel this way for 1 of 2 reasons. Either you have never had something traumatic happen in your life (and I hope you never do....) or you simply process things differently than me. It's ok. But those of you who get it? We are not crazy.
I couldn't stand to look at that quilt one moment longer. I wanted it gone. Out of my sight. I never wanted to see it again and let it serve as a reminder of that day.
The funny thing is, I wouldn't have tried my hand at making purses if this all hadn't happened. I still wanted to create, but quilts were not an option for a while. So I made a piddly little bag. Then I made a decent little bag. And well, you know the rest.
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