07/14/2026
My heart is a little sore these days.
I’ve wanted to have children and be a mother basically for my entire life.
I may talk about this a lot, or enough at least to be annoying. But because it is something that weighs so heavy on me, it is something I need to speak about. And Hemingway said it best: “Write hard and clear about what hurts.” So here we are.
I am 35 now. No kids, not pregnant, and in a constant state of waiting. And not patiently. I feel myself getting older by the day; with bones that creak beneath my weight, single white hairs that pop up every time I glance in the mirror, and perhaps the hardest & cruelest truth of all: people around me continue to have babies.
And for years now, while I wait in this endless purgatory without children, their absence feels ever so obvious when I walk around our home, camera in hand, looking for and longing for a sweet little subject of my own.
Lots of photographer friends of mine (a large majority, in fact) are moms. They picked up a camera to document their children’s lives, and have made it a habit of sharing their skills with other families, too. And oh, how I envy them. Oh, how I wish to be in their shoes, if only for a day.
But then two significant thoughts enter my mind. The first: even though they are not families of my own, I have had the privilege and honor of having photographed so many families over these many years. And I have made so many wonderful friends in the process.
And the second thought that comes to mind is that maybe I don’t need children right now to document. Maybe I have all I need in my life right now to document. Maybe my life is beautiful just as it is right now, in this very moment.
And with these thoughts, not only am I content, but I am so, so grateful. 🤍
