The force that drives me to keep doing this work, is motherhood. I am driven to capture it, in all of it’s forms…in all of the ways it manifests. Motherhood is the hardest journey I have ever been on, and yet it has transported me into another dimension of existence. One in where I live in a constant dichotomy between elation and heartbreak. There is so much cruelty in the way children grow, the ways they slowly stop needing us…and at the same time that growth brings me immense pride and joy. Motherhood is weird. Weird in the way that I have a mini can of ginger ale saved in a bag in my closet, because I can’t throw it away. (This is because I would take one home every time I left the NICU after my son was born) Weird in the ways I no longer care about so many things I thought I would. (Don’t ask me about how much screen time we enjoy over here) Motherhood is also the single greatest gift in my life.
I am honored every single time a mother steps in front of my lens. So, here I present to you a few of my favorite motherhood moments, (you might see one of your own!).
Motherhood | Frame by Frame
For the mothers
I’m going to end this post with a poem by Allison Woodard, called “God our Mother”. I love this poem, and it’s relevant to you as a mother, no matter what you believe!
“God Our Mother” by Allison Woodard:
To be a Mother is to suffer;
To travail in the dark,
stretched and torn,
exposed in half-naked humiliation,
subjected to indignities
for the sake of new life.
To be a Mother is to say,
“This is my body, broken for you,”
And, in the next instant, in response to the created’s primal hunger,
“This is my body, take and eat.”
To be a Mother is to self-empty,
To neither slumber nor sleep,
so attuned You are to cries in the night—
Offering the comfort of Yourself,
and assurances of “I’m here.”
To be a Mother is to weep
over the fighting and exclusions and wounds
your children inflict on one another;
To long for reconciliation and brotherly love
and—when all is said and done—
To gather all parties, the offender and the offended,
into the folds of your embrace
and to whisper in their ears
that they are Beloved.
To be a mother is to be vulnerable—
To be misunderstood,
Railed against,
Blamed
For the heartaches of the bewildered children
who don’t know where else to cast
the angst they feel
over their own existence
in this perplexing universe
To be a mother is to hoist onto your hips those on whom your image is imprinted,
bearing the burden of their weight,
rejoicing in their returned affection,
delighting in their wonder,
bleeding in the presence of their pain.
To be a mother is to be accused of sentimentality one moment,
And injustice the next.
To be the Receiver of endless demands,
Absorber of perpetual complaints,
Reckoner of bottomless needs.
To be a mother is to be an artist;
A keeper of memories past,
Weaver of stories untold,
Visionary of lives looming ahead.
To be a mother is to be the first voice listened to,
And the first disregarded;
To be a Mender of broken creations,
And Comforter of the distraught children
whose hands wrought them.
To be a mother is to be a Touchstone
and the Source,
Bestower of names,
Influencer of identities;
Life giver,
Life shaper,
Empath,
Healer,
and
Original Love.
Motherhood
If you have been in front of my lens, thank you for sharing a piece of your motherhood with me. If you haven’t, reach out anytime and we can chat about capturing a bit of your own!
Here, I leave you with a piece of mine…
