Think Time
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New moms have lots of think time….. no really, before you think, “Great…another blogger missing a few dots on her dice,” allow me to explain. Moms have the mental awareness of a mung bean during their 9th month of pregnancy. I couldn’t think of anything else besides when this child would arrive- that glorious day when I get to feel those tiny little fingers again. I am referring to my own. I swelled up like a zeppelin during my pregnancy with my daughter, Amelia. I was 9 months pregnant during one of the hottest summers on record in Charlotte. I didn’t leave the house for 6 weeks. I became this swollen, sweaty recluse with way too much think time. It was all very sexy. However, I decided to hang up the Howard Hughes routine and make myself useful. I started sewing. I sewed anything that wasn’t bolted down. I’m pretty sure my husband thought I was going to stitch him to the sheets in his sleep or something. Perhaps I took the nesting thing a tad bit too far, but I was on a mission to create an inspiring space to bring home my first daughter. I got to work sewing bedding and curtains, cushions and pillows. I had bit off WAY more than I could chew. Yards and yards of black and white fabric, many tears, and a few choice expressions later, I had created a tranquil retreat for Amelia and I. While I sat night after night ripping out my latest seam, crying and hurling insults at my machine, I did a lot of thinking. I thought of my baby girl. When would she arrive? Would she look like me? What if the 5 sonograms I had were wrong and she was really a he? Would he like a pink room in a dress form theme? Would the other kids tease him for being a boy with the name Amelia? Somewhere during all of that thinking and stitching, I realized that this room was my gift to her…. Well, that and I don’t know…. oxygen perhaps. So Amelia was born 2 days early and 25 ½ hours later, and we began our journey as a nursing couple affording me yet another opportunity for some excessive think time. Those first several days were nothing but rocking, nursing, thinking… rocking, nursing, thinking… I felt like a lactating version of Rain Man. Then the light bulbs started to illuminate, and these patchwork ideas that had been rolling around upstairs for some time began to interconnect. I’m not sure how it happened, but somewhere between swollen fingers and Raymond Babbitt, Lullabuy Design was conceived. And thus begins the journey….[slideshow]
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