I just wanted to add to my post with this thought: there is something quite liberating in totally messing up a quilt, and then realizing it's not the end of the world. I look at my first quilt, how crooked the lines are, and remember all of my mistakes, and here nearly 15 years later it's still one my daughter treasures. I know where my mistakes are, but my daughter sees that quilt as a reminder of how much I loved her.
Time has passed, and yes I've made more mistakes since then, although they've gotten smaller and fewer between, but I use that quilt to keep me humble, and to remind me how far I've come.