Many moons ago, when I was a new-ish college grad, a reluctant office manager, and an ecstatic first-time-pregnant lady, I started learning how to use my sewing machine. My first project was an apron, which I made with no pattern (bad idea - but I still wear/love it). I made a few baby blankets, and then graduated to baby pajamas. My mom said, "If you can make baby clothes, you can make anything!" I don't know about that, but they were definitely tricky.
The first pair of pajamas I made was the hardest. I had to learn all about interfacing, snaps, gathers, cuffs, and how to make those pesky little feet! It was a frustrating process, but at the same time, quite satisfying work. I was so proud of those pajamas! I could just imagine a cuddly little baby wearing them to bed at night.
Shortly after finishing the pajamas, I found out our baby was a boy, so I folded them into a storage box and made blue and green jammies instead. That storage box collected dust for a long time. Those little pink jammies finally got folded into a drawer a few months ago, and tonight, for the first time, a cuddly baby girl is wearing them. I'm not a very sentimental person, but sliding tiny Lexi toes into the feet and fastening the snaps made me a bit teary. My mind flashed back to the hot summer evenings in Provo when I cut out pattern pieces, stitched and unpicked and stitched again, and finally fashioned a sweet, tiny outfit for the baby of my dreams.
The fourth baby of my dreams is now here, wearing a piece of her mama's heart. And I'm so glad.