A moment of yearning: A beach day observation & the state of motherhood

A version of this was originally shared in my monthly email newsletter, but it seemed to resonate with many of my moms – so I'm sharing here, too!

I hope your family's summer is off to a great start! It's felt a little wild over here — ending the school year, traveling, a week at the beach, and now soccer camps. I'm ready for the season to slow down a bit.

It's felt impossible to sit down and compose a heartfelt message to you, but I did witness something at the beach last week that I wanted to share, especially if you're a mom.

A mom on the beach asked her husband to take a few photos of her and her very young son (it was probably his first time at the beach!). She looked beautiful and happy as she watched her son stare in awe at the rhythmic lapping of ocean waves, his tiny toes curled into to the warm sand. Dad happily snapped a few photos from his chair (which was quite a distance from his wife, at least in terms of what a phone can really capture).

A minute later, she was still very much experiencing this moment with her baby, but the photos were done. My photographer and mom heart ached for her.

Don't get me wrong — this is not a knock on husbands. What really stood out to me was this: We moms are living in a moment of yearning.

To be seen.

To be remembered.

For our moments of joy, love, and presence outshine our moments of overstimulation, overwhelm, and over it.

Being a mom is harder now than it's ever been. We must deal with the heartbreak of the world while making snacks, while making appointments, while making do, while making time for ourselves.

And in the midst of all this, we are also trying to soak up a season that we know is passing too quickly.

When I take your picture, this is what I carry with me.

I'm not just photographing your children; I'm witnessing your moment of motherhood.

I'm looking for your beauty, your joy, your tenderness. The tiny moments you might not even realize are happening. I'm leaving space for the spontaneous, the imperfect, the real.

Because one day, your children won't want to just see what they looked like ... they'll want to remember how it felt to be loved by you.

This season matters. Let's make sure it doesn't slip away.

Learn about my Summer Memory Experience