Teeny toes, baby feet.
So soft, delicate, perfect.
They had never touched the ground.
The first contact with the ocean and land.
Documented. Shared. Beautiful.
I’ve always favored the sea. Loved the smell, the depth, the movement. Have lived close to, or lived on it. It only seemed right, that Maisie should touch the sea before she touched the earth.
For the first few weeks, when I even thought about my pregnancy, labor, delivery and events that followed or how much I loved Maisie…I would burst into tears. The above photo was no exception. Being a mom means loving someone so much, it actually hurts.
When you become someone’s mom, you instantly understand why she worried so much. Why she cared so much. Why she cried when you hurt yourself, or worse.. when you hurt someone else. Why she missed you when you flew away on airplanes to chase dreams on cruise ships. Why she was proud. Why she laughed at your lame jokes, why she bragged about your ‘sports award’ in grade 4, and why she was so upset when you died your hair, got tattoos, crashed cars, drank too much, acted wildly. You immediately understand why it hurt so much when you told her “I hate you, I wish you weren’t my mom” when you were little (or not so little).
Everything makes sense. You wish you maybe had realized what being a mom to someone really meant a whole lot sooner, and maybe could have been a bit easier on your own mom along the way. You may have hugged her more and been more patient. You might think about the years of her life she gave up, so you could be a healthy, loving, kind human being. You may think about how her body would never be the same, all because she wanted to give you life. You may even think about her sleepless nights feeding you, loving you, singing and rocking you back to sleep. You might think about what she sacrificed, now that you’ve made some of the same sacrifices. You may understand that she really doesn’t want anything in the world more, than for you to have the most magic life you could ever imagine. You may feel like mothers day is not just another day. It may be a reminder for you to take a moment and do some thinking, and remembering and honoring.
I’m not sure if its the same for everyone. But for me, this little being has rocked the very core of my being into remembering that I didn’t just magically appear here on earth.
My mom brought me here. Aches, pains, labor, delivery, growth charts, doctors visits, sleepless nights. She made me. Raised me. Taught me to see beauty, everywhere. Infused my soul with a deep appreciation for life, for love and instilled the most important trait of all in me… compassion. I didn’t just magically arrive here. In fact, I’m pretty sure without her… I would have never even existed. All of this means a whole lot more now that I look over and see my own little girl sleeping soundly, sweetly. In fact, everything means more now.
Mom, I love you. I understand what you went through to create me, I am forever grateful.
Maybe a pretty person makes a pretty photo. Maybe the outfit or the hair or the colors makes the photo appealing. At first.
In the initial glance at an image, what do you see.
Perhaps there are fun props, quirky poses, something beautiful. Maybe you don’t know why you like the photo. You just do. I’m not really one for fuss. I don’t really like using a lot of props or things in photographs. I like spirit. I thrive on emotion. I love seeing behind the image, what is really in that photo. Because really, there isn’t much chance in any single moment of seeing nothing in life. If you are seeing nothing… it is my humble opinion that you are missing a whole lot.
There is substance in everything. There is a story everywhere, in everything. In every molecule, every moment, there was something before it. Or some path that lead it to right now. You have a story, and many of them. I may not know what it is when I first set out to photograph you, but I’ll see it somewhere along the process. Or I’d like to think that its possible to catch a glimpse of your story in your eyes, in your silence, in your movements on your own and then how you move with your man/lady/child/mother/sister. We are all full of tightly woven sinews, all connecting us together inside ourselves as well as those stories fusing every single one of us all in a closely knit and intricate labyrinth.
I am somehow connected to you. Right now, you reading my watery words… me typing them from my laptop, feet up, reclined… baby wiggling away inside my belly. Listening to nothing but the wind howl through our fireplace, I contemplate what’s behind an image. You, wherever you are, which ever screen you are perched at in whatever part of the world. Reading these words. Maybe there are ten of you. Maybe only one. But somehow, something has brought us together. Be it only in the vast world of cyberspace, for this moment. Our stories have met.
When I look back at a few of these photos from the past, I see what I saw in that moment. In whatever fleeting moment was occuring, I am right back there. What I find most interesting, is to wonder.. what you see? Is it different from what stories I see, or feel or wish to feel. Do you see behind the image? Or is it just a nice photo. Is there anything compelling about it to you? What is it? I’ll likely never know. But I will leave you with a few of the images that I truly love. Mainly because of what lies behind the photo. Maybe you see it too?
I know that I’ve posted a whole lot about little Landon lately… see last two entries, but I just can’t help it!
Here is little Landon at two weeks old, with his mom and dad.
What a love. (Can’t possibly tell you how excited this makes me to meet our little girl! Not long now…)
This one cracks me up… somewhat like..”Yahoo, I made it to the world!” So cute!
If I can ask my amazing clients to share their intimate maternity images on my blog, I suppose, it is only fair, that I ask myself to do the same. With just over two months until we meet our little girl, here we are in our studio, with nothing but a little light and a little clothing.
