I looked down at my newborn son, taking in his blue eyes and wispy, strawberry blond hair. He gazed back at me, and I was looking in a mirror. My husband and I might have thought long and hard about a name for our boy, debating endlessly to find the perfect one, but we began to call him “MiniMe” because of the uncanny resemblance between him and me.

 

It didn’t take me long to realize that returning to my job as a full time investment banker wasn’t going to work for our family. My MiniMe needed me, and I needed to be with him.  I began to ponder alternative ways to create income for our family. Inspiration struck while I was visiting my mother across the country and happened upon her 30 year old sewing machine. It was a solid metal Kenmore and weighed close to 22 pounds. It purred like a kitten and could sew its way through a minefield. No matter that I had no sewing skills; I knew the potential of such a machine.  My mother graciously donated her sewing machine to my cause, and I lugged all 22 awkward pounds through the airport and back home.

 

The question of what to make was answered quite naturally: baby accessories. Babies were being born all around me, and those babies needed many, many things.  As for learning how to sew—well, that was just a matter of a good How To book, easily found at the local library. I went to work, sewing seams, ripping them out, and sewing them again, better the second and third and fourth time around.

 

Many stitches later, I created my first wet bag. While I initially designed it for families that were cloth diapering, I realized that every parent, no matter if they used disposable or cloth diapers, has a need for a sturdy, washable bag to capture the wet accidents that come into babies’ lives so frequently.  The bag needed to look fantastic, too, as most moms I knew were hip, fashion-conscious women. I spent hours selecting fabrics and perfecting technique.

 

Business gradually grew over the next two years. I remember one morning in the summer of 2007 when I checked my computer and found orders for 129 wet bags.  More orders began flooding in, and soon I was sewing 70 hours a week.  I knew that I couldn’t sustain such vigorous marathon sewing sessions, and I began to consider outsourcing production.  Keeping in mind the necessities of high quality, fashion, and affordability, I found a manufacturer that met my criteria, and Wet Happened? bags were officially “made in the USA” beginning in the fall of 2007.

 

Later that same fall, as I sat in front of my trusty sewing machine, I received an unexpected but not unwelcome call from a national department store chain.  They were interested in testing the Wet Happened? in their stores.  Incredulously, I surveyed my basement work area, the piles of fabrics strewn about, the orders stacked all about me, wondering how I could take advantage of such a fantastic opportunity.  Not one to be deterred by lack of experience, I began making phone calls and completing the necessary research to make it happen.

 

It’s now six months later—six months of hard work and preparation—and Wet Happened? bags are on the shelves of that national department store. I am thrilled; the bags look fantastic and have retained the quality that I personally invested in each one when I sewed them myself.

 

 

**Special thanks to Dana at City Fellowship Church for breathing life into my story.