FINDING BEAUTY IN OUR IMPERFECTIONS

I’m just going to say it like it is: I am OBSESSED with the images from this boudoir session. And not just because of the dreamy light and my subject’s staggering eyes, but because of the transformation I witnessed in her as she became more comfortable with me — and herself.

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RECOLLECTIONS OF SUMMER

It’s a beautiful morning in DC: the sun is pouring in our windows and the city’s trees are swollen with lush, pink blooms, leaving a faint fragrance to perfume the air.  As my son sleeps soundly in the next room, it strikes me as an ideal time to look back on a lovely evening session I did last summer at the National Gallery of Art that seems especially “DC” to me.

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PRESERVING OUR PERSONAL STORIES

Oh, why hello! It’s been a rather long time, hasn’t it? I suppose it’s appropriate that my last musings were about a balancing act, about finding time to finesse various facets of my business amidst the beautiful mess of motherhood. Because now I’m so behind on the blog that I’m writing about sessions I photographed last July. But on the bright side—I’m writing—and the baby is napping. So…win for mama!

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A BALANCING ACT

Five months of juggling motherhood and entrepreneurship has taught me a lot of things, not the least of which is that there will be days when not a thing gets crossed off my professional checklist. Today has felt like one of those days—although if that was actually the case, this blog post would, admittedly, not exist. Some days, my little love will bounce away in his favorite chair and babble for the sake of hearing his own voice; he’ll nap on schedule and beam at me when we make eye contact. Other days, he’ll refuse to nap, demand that I hold him (while standing and bouncing) all day long, and cry with all of his might if I attempt to do otherwise. It’s days like this—when the balancing act seems completely untenable—that I must remind myself to breathe in, breathe out, and know how lucky I am to have the flexibility I do.

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TO MY SWEET BABY BOY

You grew my heart the moment you took your first breath.

I remember marveling at your tiny, exaggerated features that night—learning the softness and contours of your sweet, wrinkly face—and realizing I had never before known my true capacity to love. You were brand new, yet so familiar to me, somehow, and nothing had ever made me feel so at home as the rise and fall of your breathing against my chest. I was so taken.

I still am.

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