People always say when you have a baby everything changes and I thought ok, sure, how much can it really change. But, you guys, EVERYTHING changed! Well not everything; behind every picture in our house there will always be about four holes where I'd previously hung it only to decide it was too high/low/dumb and I will probably always sneak into the kitchen in my underwear at midnight when I can’t sleep to devour half a brick of cheese (ok, a whole brick ;-).

But everything else is different – I didn’t realize it the first time I held Daisy, it came later, when the dust had settled. We were cozed up under two blankets listening to music on shuffle with the swirling February snow outside, Daisy was snoozing on my chest, her tiny arm hugging my shoulder and her wheezy, new-to-this-breathing-thing, snores rocking her tiny body. I was so overwhelmed with joy, here was this little person who was mine, who absorbed and curled into the love that was splitting my heart in two with it’s massiveness. And then came the terror, that this would end, that she would grow up and it would change. I never wanted her to get any bigger. That’s when Tim Minchin’s White Wine in The Sun came on, he was singing about going home for Christmas with his newborn daughter.

“And you, my baby girl
My jetlagged infant daughter
You'll be handed round the room
Like a puppy at a primary school
And you won't understand
But you will learn someday
That wherever you are and whatever you face
These are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world
My sweet blue-eyed girl

And if my baby girl
When you're twenty-one or thirty-one
And Christmas comes around
And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home
You'll know what ever comes

Your brothers and sisters and me and your Mum
Will be waiting for you in the sun”

Suddenly I was bawling but it was ok, she could get bigger and we would always have this, something fluid but unchangeable too. The hugeness was ok, the scariness was ok and the joy, which in some ways was the hardest, was ok too because we were connected, always.

Everything else shifted, I was looking through different eyes. It would be hard to go back to designing for a big company, for mass production. Connection felt so important, I wanted to make something small and personal. Something that would resonate with other moms (and dads, grandmas, grandpas, best buds, anyone who loves a little one). So here goes with our corner of the interwebs. Designs are drawn by me, modeled by Daisy and each onesie is printed by hand here in Queens, NY. Hope you dig!

Onward and upward!

xoAnnie (& Daisy)

P.S. Because life isn’t always massive, epiphany moments and sometimes it’s crusty eyes at 3am with a mewling infant, I suggest you also give Tim Minchin’s “Lullaby” a listen ;-)