Why I Photograph Mothers

I think so much of why I do this comes from understanding just how quickly time slips by. One of the things I wish most is that I had more photographs with my grandma before she passed away. Not the perfectly posed ones — but the real ones. The ordinary moments. The way she looked at me, the feeling of being close to her, the quiet love woven into everyday life.

Now as a mother myself, I understand even more how meaningful photographs become over time. The little hands wrapped around your neck. The way your child reaches for you without thinking. The chaos, tenderness, exhaustion, and overwhelming love that fill these years of motherhood.

So many mothers spend their days behind the camera, documenting everyone else while rarely being seen themselves. But years from now, your children will not care if the house was spotless, if your hair was perfect, or if everyone smiled at the same time. They will want to remember you — the way you held them, comforted them, laughed with them, and loved them through every season.

That’s why I photograph mothers the way I do. Not for perfection, but for preservation. For the quiet in-between moments that often feel ordinary now, but someday will mean everything.