Erika Ray Photography

09/19/2019

Photography forced me to focus on the details by anchoring me to Now.

Yoga forced me to focus on Now because it's all we have.

This birth is the perfect union of those principles.

08/23/2018

I love Back to School day, but I also love new birth post day.

Don't make me pick...

A couple weeks before this birth, Amy and I talked on the phone. “Are you okay shooting a breech birth?” she asked. The question was funny to me as we’ve done a transfer, I& #821…

08/13/2018

Prior to my first birth, people were very worried about my ability to handle blood. There's a story about me slicing my finger. I had to rip off my shirt and lay down with my finger in the air. I've almost passed out giving blood during on of my OB checks. I just don't do blood...

But I agreed to photograph a birth, so I was going to have to confront my fear of blood. Let me stress that births don't look like a horror scene from a movie. Is there blood and other fluids? Yes! Duh... But the first time I saw a placenta during a birth, I fell in love. I can't accurately tell you why. Maybe because it was mysterious, life containing, strong and everything your baby needed.

Placentas really are a magical. If you get a chance, please glance at yours. And if you have me at your birth, I'll make sure you don't forget it. More photos in the comments.

(for the record: I'll still get woozy and probably pass out if I cut my finger)

07/30/2018

If you've followed my births long enough, you know I love when the Mom takes their break. It's minutes after a delivery and she's still holding her baby.

I wasn't sure if I got yesterday's Break because it happened really fast and siblings were so excited about their newest member.

The midwives helped his sister cut the cord, newborn exam completed and the midwives helped Mom take a quick shower. She walked into her bedroom and saw her husband cradling their son. She leaned on him, cried and said "I love you" to both of them. She finally took her break and felt all of it.

07/24/2018

Did you know that there's a Flow to a birth? Could be in a hospital or a living room surrounded by loose legos. Medicine might given or ignored. It could be attended by lots of friends or very intimate. Maybe it's in the early morning or during dinner. Some are quiet and some are filled with expletives.

But there's a flow to each birth. It starts with the woman. She's the eye of this beautiful empowering hurricane of love.

Take a couple minutes and jump into my latest births' flow.

07/02/2018

During the labor, she would talk about all the things she forgot about a newborn. "You just forget that stuff..." I totally agreed. You forget. It's replaced by baby/toddler/kid/teenage concerns.

But when they first placed him in her arms, she remembered the most important thing. True genuine love. It rushes back to you. It fills you. It never left. It's brand new yet comforting like a well loved blanket. She talked about loving her new son with a tone as if she'd known him for decades. That's the kind of love you experience in a delivery room. Deep, true and comforting.

06/15/2018

How Columbus welcomes Mike Pence. It's the only way!

06/06/2018

Tap. Tap. Is this thing on?

We all get lost and when we’re tired of wandering aimlessly, we walk up to a counter. A grim looking person hands us a GPS and screams Next! The line is long. My GPS booted up and said, “Go straight on Boys Are Too Old” Ave. for 15 miles. Veer left on “Social Media Photography is Exhausting” Ln. In 4 miles take the “I’m Not Playing the Game” roundabout and take the second right. In 6 miles take the curvy “If I Hear Real or Authentic One More Time” Path. Watch out for falling debris. Take the third right on “This Means Nothing” Blvd and stay straight for 20 miles. Your destination is on the left.”

But I’ve taken detours and gotten lost on tons of snarky and sh*tty side streets trying to find that destination. Most of us will continue listening to the pathetic GPS for too long. The destination isn’t a cozy comfortable supportive spot of joy. It’s a disgusting 1980’s armchair with cushion and springs poking into your Joy. This weekend reminded me that Art shouldn’t have a destination. It’s a winding path of Joy.

Look at her smile. She’s not following a map. She’s living it. And I still believe that in every adult is the child looking for the joy of creation. Trying to find their inner artist. No pathetic GPS should be followed to a final destination of apathy. We’ve all got that path. Let’s use a w**d wacker and jump back on.

Photography is still part of my Art path. It’s a new path and looks totally different from the one I jumped on over 10 years ago. But in the end, I need to accept how it’s matured. And I’ll accept the other paths I could wander through.

Your path is different and maybe you don’t think you’ve got an Artist path. So call it Joy. Cook, thrift, write, birdwatch, listen to 90’s hip-hop, try a new diet, sign up for one of those acrobatic classes, you get it... Find a friend and jump in. Find that Joy in short burst. Get back on the path that isn’t determined by your responsibilities, fears, social media, and excuses.

That’s my plan for the summer. Why should kids get all the fun?! Toss out the GPS and say “F**k it! Why not?”

What w**ds have infested your Path? Aren't you ready to find and fire up YOUR w**d whacker? Join me.

02/20/2018

Ladies...
Raising feminist boys starts with little word choices.

While watching Celebrity Big Brother, Becks said "I know how you get a girl out..."

"No. You know how to get a Woman out. She's worked at the White House. The other woman has a child. They're women."

"But they called themselves Girls..."

"You call them Women."

Change the patriarchal system with tiny steps. They add up.

02/16/2018

Last night I got back from an almost week long yoga retreat in Costa Rica. Yup, 6 days doing yoga. The fact that I even do intense yoga is crazy. The fact that I allowed myself to travel for yoga is even more insane. I took time (and money) away from my family for my well-being. That's a privilege and one that I am incredibly grateful to have experienced.

I didn't just do “yoga”. I disconnected and yet connected in a deeper manner. I experienced a foreign country. I was in awe of nature. Enjoyed it's fresh fruits. I made semi-strangers into close friends. I listened to fears, joys and shared the same with equal vulnerability.

It's more than yoga. It's more than stretching and exercise. So much more if you let it be so. The “So Much More“ is what I hope to cling to when life loses the romance of homecoming. Everyone is thrilled I'm home. People are hyper aware of my contributions. My pillow has never felt so magical. I taste every single flavor note of my normal ramen. I'm still centered and mindful. I'm doing the yoga. Right now it’s easy.

But life will return. I will get frustrated by mounds of laundry. The stream of emails will feel overwhelming. Mac n' Cheese will be consumed without a flash of gratitude. I will feel under appreciated and I will under appreciate others. I will explode without a second's breathe. The current political scene will send me into rage and turn to fear. A yoga class will be taken for the exercise and I'll shuffle through my day without mindfulness. I realize that a week didn’t absolve me of these normal frustrations.

But this week, I “selfishly” gave myself more tools and confidence to say, “Stop it. Let it go. Forgive yourself. Take a breathe. Get back to the yoga. You got this.”

01/28/2018

This is exactly what I meant about Moms' "photoshopping" their lives. Mommy blogging is replaced by the Mommy IG.

Women need to remember it's a form of advertising and we all play a role in it. That's ok until you forget it and value your worth based on other people's IG feed.

Gritty blogs have given way to staged Instagram photos.

01/26/2018