What Actually Happens During a Motherhood Session

(From Someone Who's Been on Both Sides of the Lens)

Growing up, being photographed was just... normal.

My dad was our family documentarian. Vacations, milestones, ordinary Tuesdays that somehow became memories worth keeping. And my mom? She's in every single album we own. Pregnant, laughing, tired, glowing. She's there.

So when I became a mom myself, I assumed it would be the same. And then I looked through our photos and had a quiet little shock: my husband is everywhere. With the kids, at the park, at the table, in the light. Beautiful photos, genuinely. But me? I'm behind the camera. Because of course I am. I'm the photographer.

He's getting better at capturing me. I'll give him that. But I wanted more. So I decided to do something that felt both completely natural and completely terrifying: I jumped in front of the frame and started photographing my own motherhood.

And it changed everything.

Not just because I now have photos of myself that I love. But because standing in front of a lens, making myself open and a little vulnerable, connected me to the moms I photograph in a way I didn't expect. I'm not just the one who holds the camera anymore. I know what it feels like to be on the other side of it.

These photos I'm making of myself? I'm going to keep them forever. Not because they're perfect. But because every time I look at them, I'll remember the weight of those hugs. How long they lasted. Those small, quiet caresses that you think you'll never forget and then one day realize you almost did.

So why don't we do it? Why do moms avoid the camera?

I think about this a lot. And honestly, it comes down to one thing: we think we have to be ready. Hair done. Makeup on. The right outfit. The right light. The right version of ourselves.

And so we wait. And while we're waiting, life keeps moving.

Here's what I know for certain though, from being a mom and from being the one behind the lens for so many other moms: your kids are not going to look at these photos and notice your roots. They are not going to see the concealer you skipped or the jeans that didn't fit quite right. They are going to see you. They are going to see that you were there, present and real, in every season and every stage of their lives.

That connection? That's what photographs actually hold.

This clicked for me in a deep way when I started photographing myself. Standing in front of my own camera, imperfect and a little scared, I realized that what I was creating wasn't a record of how I looked. It was a record of who I was to my children right now, in this exact, fleeting, unrepeatable season.

That's the shift I want every mom to feel. Not "I'll do it when I'm ready." But "I deserve to be in these memories as I am, right now."

That's my mission. To give every mom the gift of being remembered beautifully and guilt free.

So what does a motherhood session actually look like?

It starts with a choice that's entirely yours. We can do this in your home, your real home with the morning light and the unmade beds and the coffee cup on the counter, because that's where you actually live your motherhood. Or we can do it in a beautifully lit studio, clean and calm and just for you. Or outside, in a park, by the water, somewhere that feels like breathing room

Wherever we are, the first thing we do is talk.

I ask you about your journey. How it's been. The hard parts and the beautiful parts. Whether you're breastfeeding, whether you're sleeping, how you're really feeling about all of it. Not as small talk, but because I genuinely want to know. And something happens when a mom gets to actually answer that question honestly: she relaxes. She remembers who she is outside of the to-do list. And that's when the real session begins.

From there, I'm going to ask you to do things that might sound simple but will wreck you in the best way. Smell your baby's head. Really smell it. Hold your kid like you're trying to memorize the weight of them. Tickle them. Caress their cheek. Look at their hands, their feet, those impossibly small details that are already changing.

And I'm going to remind you, because sometimes we forget: you made this person. With your body, from scratch. You grew them and you brought them here and every single day you keep them alive and safe and loved. You are their soft place to land. The one they run to when they're scared or hurt or just need to feel okay again. You are their whole world, at least for a little while.

That's what I'm here to capture. Not a posed portrait of a perfect family. But the actual, fleeting, irreplaceable truth of you and your children right now.

This one is for you.

You have been thinking about everyone else for so long that it might feel strange to do something just for yourself. You budget for groceries and swimming lessons and the right shoes for growing feet. You remember every appointment, every preference, every little thing that makes your kids feel loved and safe.

And your T-shirt has stains on it. And your body is tired. And your own shoes are worn down from all the picking up and dropping off and showing up, every single day, without fail.

You are so good at taking care of everyone. But when did you last take care of you?

These photos are an investment, yes. But they are not an indulgence. They are a record of who you were to your children during one of the most important seasons of both your lives. Your kids are going to grow up. And one day they are going to look at these images and see their mom, really see her, present and warm and real and there. Not perfect. Better than perfect. Theirs.

You deserve to be in the memories. Not someday when you feel ready, not after you lose the weight or find the right outfit or have a good hair day. Now. As you are. In the middle of all of it.

You kept them alive. You are their safe place. You are the person they run to.

Let someone capture that for you.