Freshly Picked Moccasins: Sweet Baby Shoes And Birth Stories
picture above of Monica Brown and Laiyah: courtesy of @monicabrown, sporting the Freshly Picked Goldenrod Moccs and Carryall.
Susan Petersen started making baby moccasins in 2009 after becoming frustrated by the lack of well-designed baby shoes. Using her second child, Gus, as a mocc-tester, and a bag of scrap leather she picked up at a yard sale, she began experimenting with designs. Working at her kitchen table, on a shoestring budget, Susan persisted through some disastrous attempts until she had created a pair of moccasins that not only looked adorable on Gus’ chubby little feet, but stayed on his feet as well.
Since then the moccasins have gone through about six design changes. Each change has perfected the look and the fit of the soft-soled shoe. The moccasins she sells today are durable, well designed, and most importantly: stay on your child’s foot.
Each pair of moccasins, whether being shipped to the rich and famous (or at least their kids), or shipped across town, are made with care, perfection and a love for the little feet they are intended for. We at Mommynoire love this product and highly recommend them…honestly, there’s so soft and beautiful, we wanted to jam our own feet inside.
But there’s more to Freshly Picked than sweet baby feet, more importantly, it’s about celebrating mamas and babies. Every week they feature a birth story, a tale of the start of a mother and her child. It’s a great resource for moms and future moms and a place for sharing and inspiring. Women become mothers in a million different ways. Here’s one of the stories we found to be touching.
Here’s a story we love and hope you do too.
A few weeks ago we welcomed our newest addition to the family, Micah. I still get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about it. Everything still feels surreal. The pregnancy itself was pretty uneventful. Micah was an excellent tenant. My delivery day, however, was a different story.
“So, is this your first child?” the excited nurse asked as she rolled me toward my birthing room.
It was 4 o’ clock in the afternoon. I’d spent the last 24 hours with fairly strong contractions exactly 10 minutes apart (except for the occasional two that would skip to 12 minutes). My doctor and I had agreed that because of the distance between my home and the hospital ( an hour drive in heavy traffic), I would plan to leave my house when the contractions were 8 minutes apart. However, those plans changed. Because of the intensity of the contractions and the fact that after drinking a ton of water, taking a super long shower and changing positions numerous times, nothing changed, we decided to leave before the 8 minute mark. I hadn’t slept since the day before and was getting a bit cranky. For everyone’s sake, I felt that we should at least go to my doctor’s office which was next to the hospital to have them rule out false labor. Thankfully we did because somewhere between “Honey, don’t forget to put the baby bag in the car.” and a mile down the road from our house, my stubborn contractions hit the 5 minute mark, completely by-passing the 8.
The doctor’s office closed early on Fridays at 3pm. My husband and I made it into the parking garage at 2:52pm and up to the 11th floor of the office by 2:59pm. (Don’t ask me how.) By now I wasn’t saying very much. I leaned on the counter at the front desk for support, scribbling my name on the sign-in sheet, at least I think it was my name. Bracing myself for another wave of pain, I began to wonder how involuntary muscle contractions could be so strong that they take your breath away. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?