Sewing Found Me When I Was Finally Ready

How My Mother, a Pandemic, and an Old Sewing Machine Changed Everything

Some people grow up learning to sew at their mother’s side. I grew up watching my mother sew — and wanting nothing to do with it.
My mother was an extraordinary sewist. She worked for the designer Bill Blass and was always praised for the precision and beauty of her work. Fabric, patterns, and sewing machines were simply part of everyday life in our home. But as a young girl growing up in Queens, I wanted what my friends had — clothes bought in stores. 

Instead, my mother insisted on sewing many of my outfits herself. My First Communion dress, prom dresses, and special birthday outfits were all made by her skilled hands.

Looking back now, I realize how special that was. But at the time, I didn’t appreciate it. In fact, I resisted learning to sew at all.

Trying to Learn

Years later, after I was married and had children of my own, I thought it might be a good idea to learn.
So I tried.And failed. Sewing didn’t come easily to me, and eventually I asked my mother for help. She patiently tried to teach me, but somehow it just never clicked. Life moved on, and sewing remained something that belonged to my mother — not to me.Years later, after I was married and had children of my own, I thought it might be a good idea to learn. So I tried. And failed. 

Then Came 2020

When the COVID‑19 pandemic arrived in 2020, everything changed. My mother had recently passed away, and like so many people, I was struggling with the weight of that loss while the world around us felt uncertain.

During those early months, a call went out in our community asking for help sewing masks for emergency workers. I volunteered.
What began as a small effort quickly grew. With the help of friends, family, and honestly our entire community, we produced hundreds of masks, surgical caps, and headbands for doctors and nurses. 

It was meaningful work during a difficult time.
But it wasn’t easy.

My Old Singer Machine

I was working on an old Singer sewing machine that constantly tested my patience. Threads tangled. Needles broke. Stitches skipped. And I didn’t yet have the knowledge to fix the problems when they happened. 

One night, very late, I found myself sitting at my sewing machine completely overwhelmed. I was frustrated. I was exhausted. And I was in tears.

The Moment Everything Changed

That night something extraordinary happened. In the quiet of that moment, I felt my mother’s presence as clearly as if she were sitting beside me.
She calmed me. She reassured me. She reminded me that I could do this — that the skills were already there. It was nothing short of a miracle.

A Door Opened

From that moment on, something changed. Sewing began to flow out of me as if a fountain had been opened.
Childhood memories of watching my mother sew came rushing back — the way she handled fabric, the rhythm of the machine, the patience required to make something beautiful by hand. Suddenly the frustration was gone. There was no stopping me. 

At some point during those early days, I taped a photo of my mother to my sewing machine. It felt like she was still there with me, guiding my hands the way she once had.

And every time I upgraded to a new sewing machine, I carefully moved her photo and taped it to the new one.
She still sits there today, quietly watching over every project.

Sewing Today

Today sewing has become one of my greatest creative joys. I now sew garments, draft my own patterns, quilt, and create personalized gifts for friends and family. What once felt like something I resisted has become something I cherish deeply.

Many evenings now find me at my sewing table at home in Ridgefield, fabric spread out around me, my mother’s photo still taped to my machine just as it has been since those early days during COVID.

And in many ways, it feels like a quiet connection to my mother — a continuation of something she loved so much.

A Gift Passed On

Sewing teaches patience, creativity, and the beauty of making something with your own hands. 

But for me, it has also become something more.It is a reminder that sometimes the gifts we resist the most early in life are the ones that find us again when we are finally ready to receive them. And in every stitch I sew, a part of my mother’s story continues.

- Ti voglio bene, Mamma