My Reason Why

“If I could save time in a bottle,

the first thing that I’d like to do

is to save every day ‘til eternity passes away

just to spend them with you.” — Jim Croce

I don’t remember the pain. In fact, I remember thinking it wasn’t all that bad… until the charley horses hit both legs and my back. I remember collapsing on the bed, thinking I couldn’t do it anymore. I was scared. My epidural hadn’t been working for two hours, and Anna Rae was already so far down the birth canal. I worried that if I couldn’t get her out, it would turn into an emergency—something I desperately didn’t want. I felt unsure, overwhelmed, and completely helpless.

And then anesthesia came back and re-dosed my epidural.

Fifteen minutes later, I was holding my daughter for the very first time.

This is where my memory becomes hazy.

I remember being so exhausted that I was afraid I might drop her.

I remember blinking and seeing my mom.

Blinking again and seeing her dad across the room, holding our sweet girl.

I remember the quiet…

looking around the room…

asking to shower.

But beyond those moments?

Nothing.

I can’t tell you about all the incredible “firsts” that happened in that room. I don’t even remember her dad cutting the cord. And that breaks my heart… because I wish I could.

After we moved to postpartum, I remember holding her and never wanting to let go. She was so tiny. So fragile. Her cry was the softest sound. And her smell… I can’t even put it into words. It was comfort. It still is. Even now, when she curls into me in the early morning hours, I lean in, kiss her forehead, and breathe her in. That scent—somehow—it never really leaves.

In those early moments, all I wanted was for time to stand still. Time is one of the most precious things we have. We crave it. We try to hold onto it. We wish for more of it. Because somehow… there’s never enough.

Our babies are only little for such a short time. And then suddenly—they’re not.

I blinked, and my newborn became a kindergartener.

This is why I do what I do.

Because some moments fade.

Some details slip away.

And some memories deserve more than just trying to hold onto them.

I capture these moments for my families so they always have a way back—to the moments they never want to forget… and even the ones they might.

Every story is unique.

Every story is life-changing.

Every story deserves to be told.

And it is my hope that through the lens of my camera, I can give my clients a way to revisit time… again and again.