A Normal Day

On October 18th, my daughter was born and I became the mother of three children. Hundreds of miles away, on the same day, another baby girl was born and another woman added the third child to her family. We were complete strangers at that time, but our love of photography and family brought us together. We started to have a conversation about motherhood with images, because we tell stories with our cameras. Since some tales are so similar, and some are not, we decided to collaborate and share a photo a week from a normal day as a mother to three.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”

― Mary Jean Irion

 I have nearly forgotten the simple joy running around the yard with you two can bring me. These past two months have tested my business, my brains, my will to keep going on this photographic journey. The highs are always so high, but lately th…

 I have nearly forgotten the simple joy running around the yard with you two can bring me. These past two months have tested my business, my brains, my will to keep going on this photographic journey. The highs are always so high, but lately the lows are catastrophic. I get pulled in and I don't even leave the house. A good friend reminded me to take a look at what I truly value, what I truly couldn't live without. No surprise it is you (all of you kids and dog and man). I still don't know what I am doing or how I'm going to do it, but at least I still know how to do this with you. First step is probably doing this a whole lot more.

Photo by Olivia Gatti

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i remember when you wanted more than anything to be in my arms. you still ask, “carry me?”. but i hear it less each day. now it is, “wait for me!” all the time. your little legs seem to be at a constant sprint always carrying you to your brother and…

i remember when you wanted more than anything to be in my arms. you still ask, “carry me?”. but i hear it less each day. now it is, “wait for me!” all the time. your little legs seem to be at a constant sprint always carrying you to your brother and sister. so sometimes i sneak peeks at you when you are sleeping. you seem smaller there in that stillness.

Photo by Heather Robinson Photography

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