When I was visiting my mom this Spring she gave me a baby quilt that my aunt had made for me when I was born. It was one that I didn’t remember from my childhood, and she explained that the first time she had washed the quilt the layers separated and the batting all came out. (When I asked my aunt about the quilt a few months later, she didn’t remember making it, but said wryly that if it fell apart it sounded like something she’d sewn.) My mom didn’t have the time to fix it with a new baby, and she had put it away and almost forgotten about it until recently. Mom’s thought was that since I was getting into quilting, I could repair the quilt and make it usable for any future kids of my own. I heartily agreed, as the quilt had the sweetest embroidered rabbits that must have taken my aunt many hours, and the border fabric was reminiscent of the late 70s in a pleasant way.
Repairing and properly finishing the quilt would be a cinch for the same reason that it fell apart. My aunt had just sewn the backing and front together and put batting inside without quilting the layers together. One of the side seams had completely unraveled, which was how the batting all came out. On the bottom were a few holes—I’m not sure what from.
The fabric itself was in excellent condition though, since the quilt had never been used. I could have just used a seam ripper to take apart the remaining three sides, but the holes required that I just trim the edges off completely (which was fine with me, since I hate ripping seams).
What I love about this project is that it only took two days, and I was able to avoid a trip to the fabric store because I had everything I needed at hand. Once I trimmed the edges, I made a proper quilt sandwich with a piece of scrap batting that happened to be the exact size I needed leftover from my mushroom quilt. The quilting was minimal because I didn’t want to mar the embroidery in any way. My batting said to quilt 4” apart, but 6” would have to do. I just quilted inside the embroidered squares and around the main border with my machine.
The binding was the biggest pain of the whole project. I was using just a fat quarter of brown fabric from my stash, so I tried the technique of piecing it all in one long strip and sewing it continuously around the quilt. (On my mushroom quilt I just used one long piece for each side, a ‘la Michael 5000’s tutorial.) The biggest annoyance with this pieced method was cutting the angled pieces, so that there wouldn’t be bulk where they joined. Once I got the hang of it, it went smoothly though, and the corners came out nearly perfect. No, the big annoyance with the binding wasn’t this method, it was that (in the spirit of my aunt) I cut corners. I really didn’t want to hand stitch the backside of the binding, so I decided to do it by machine. I thought I could use a decorative border stitch that would tie in with the embroidered borders and save me time. It was a good idea in theory, but I didn’t take into account that the fancy border stitch didn’t want to flow smoothly on my thick binding edge, and the quilt wasn’t quite square since it was all hand pieced by my aunt, so my straight lines would look wavy on the front of the quilt. I tried 3 different fancy stitches before I gave up and did straight machine stitching. In the time I spent ripping out those damn fancy stitches I could have probably hand sewn it. I’m satisfied with it now though. It looks great on the back, and the front is still a bit wavy (as you can see on the right in the above photo), but the thread color matches pretty closely, so I don’t think it’s horrible.
I am happy to report that after machine washing and drying it, it came out whole and soft and snuggly. I think it’s so cool that I get to use this 30 year old baby quilt for my upcoming baby. All of my other baby blankets from childhood were long since loved to pieces, but because this one fell apart right away, it outlasted them all. Hmm…that kind of sounds like a messed up lesson that Homer Simpson would give, doesn’t it? (Homer: Kids, you tried your best and you failed miserably. The lesson is, never try.) Um, yeah, that’s not quite the idea I want to end with. How about: It just goes to show that even if you fumble through handmade projects and they don’t turn out perfectly, they will be loved enough to be used, saved, and recycled 30 years later. (Yeah, that’s much better!)
















