Stitch by Stitch

Our lives are a series of firsts.

There are “big” firsts. There's the first breath, first birthday, first steps, first word, first day of school, first time driving, first kiss, and first dance at your wedding, for example. But there are so many other firsts that make up the fabric of our lives. One fond “first” memory for me surrounds the first time I ever used a sewing machine.

I was eight years old, and I had wanted to play around on a sewing machine for what felt like ages to my young mind. One day, I was in the fabric store with my mom, and I piped up about wanting to make my own dress. Happily, my mother said that I was finally old enough to operate a sewing machine, and the project was set in motion.

Of course, there’s plenty more to making something than just sitting down and sewing. I soon learned it’s a process with many steps.

The first step was finding the perfect pattern. Naturally, it had to be something that was simple, for a novice seamstress. I sat down at an expansive table in the store that was absolutely littered with stacks upon stacks of pattern books. The books were enormous - heavy, thick, and hard for a small child to manage. I must have seen hundreds of different designs, everything from short summery wraps to long flowing gowns. Most of them were far beyond my skill level, no matter how pretty I thought they were. After plenty of contemplating, I managed to settle on a straightforward knee-length dress with thick shoulder straps. It looked perfect for the hot summer weather that was just around the corner.

Once the pattern was picked, it was time to peruse the aisles of fabric. I was in my “pink phase,” so, of course, I darted toward anything pink like a hummingbird to nectar. I soon learned choosing fabric wasn’t as simple as just falling in love with a color. Even though I was fixated on something pink, there was still a lot more to take into account. My mom explained that you have to consider fabrics’ type and weight. (For instance, if it were for a summery dress, I wouldn't want to choose a fleece or a flannel.)

In addition to color, I also had to think about what pattern, if any, I wanted. A large part of the artistry of sewing is figuring out what looks good together. I learned I could mix and match different types of fabrics, choose complementary patterns, or play around with contrasting colors to make the whole thing pop. After an agonizing decision, I eventually went for a light pink fabric with magenta flowers and bright green vines, with a hot pink fabric as the material for the trim and straps.

Once we were home from the store, I was ecstatic to finally start sewing, after so much waiting! Unfortunately, no matter how excited eight-year-old Annabelle was, there was still more to do. I had to follow the pattern I just spent so much time picking out, of course. I laid out my fabric on the floor and carefully arranged the pattern pieces atop it, like a puzzle, following the "map" on the instruction sheet. Once the pieces were pinned in place, it was time to start cutting. I took careful, small snips. When sewing, precision is a must. Even fractions of an inch in a single seam can spell disaster down the line. While my pattern was more forgiving than most, I still worried every time I made a cut.

One thing I remember vividly was my mom telling me that fabric scissors are “sacred” – they shouldn’t be used on anything but fabric, for any reason, ever. At the time, I was confused by this prospect. They’re just scissors, how important could they be? As I grew older, I finally came to understand that using them on cardboard or even just paper can make them go dull, which can potentially ruin future sewing projects. I’m glad I was taught this lesson young, that you need to take care of your tools so they can help you work.

With all the cutting done, it was finally time to start sewing - almost. First, I had to learn how to thread a bobbin and how to thread the sewing machine’s needle. Then, it was time for some test stitching on scrap fabric ... and suddenly, I wasn’t as excited. For me, the sewing machine was an intimidating monster I had yet to tame. It made loud noises, and went really fast, and had a very sharp pointy thing that could hurt me. What little kid wouldn’t be scared of that?

After gathering some courage, I sat down in front of the machine and got to work. It was a thrill stepping on that foot pedal for the first time, making the machine whirr to life. I learned how to control my speed with the foot pedal (it turns out I’m a bit of a lead foot, putting all of my weight down at once and causing the machine to go faster than I can keep up with). I had to be reminded multiple times to not put my hands near the needle while the machine was on. My mom shared a horror story about the time she sewed right through her middle finger. Ouch, I’m glad that wasn’t me!

I made plenty of mistakes during the sewing process, of course. (What’s a sewing project without a few mistakes?) I learned to rip out seams and do them over, which was tedious and unpleasant, but entirely necessary. The pattern we picked out was supposed to be ‘easy,’ which it was from a design standpoint, but the directions were confusing and contradictory. After we started ignoring the directions and just doing what looked right, it was smooth sailing.

I finished sewing the dress in one afternoon, and I was so proud of the final result that I ended up wearing it for the rest of the evening! In fact, we went out to dinner to celebrate, so I could show off my creation to the world.

I’m now twice as old, and twice as large, and I’ve long since outgrown that dress, but that first sewing project is a happy memory that will always have a special place in my heart.