2025 has been a year.
It was a year in February, but that’s a story for another time (I know, I know, such a tease!).
Maybe you’ve had a year, too. I hope not. But many people are definitely having a year in 2025. IYKYK.
And while it hasn’t been the year I thought I’d have, it has given me the opportunity to really reconnect with what I’m here to do.
Because I’m a storyteller. Not just of my own journey, but of other people’s.
I fell in love with photography much around the same time that I fell in love with documentary filmmaking. Since photography is the precursor to filmmaking, I think it makes sense that one flows to the other.
And then back again.
You see, I went to college wanting to be a filmmaker. Photography was always there, and in the back of my mind, I wanted to be the next Annie Liebovitz.
She started as a documentary photographer for Rolling Stone and worked her way into portraiture for publications like Vanity Fair. She takes absolutely stunning portraits, many you have probably seen before, but not realized who it was that created them.
Initially, my documentary inspiration was Ken Burns. My dad and I watched a LOT of PBS growing up. Sunday evenings were my special favorite. It started with a documentary and then flowed into British comedies like Are You Being Served and Monty Python (silly walks, anyone?).
I interviewed two survivors of the Bataan Death March (WWII) and got to the state history fair with it. I absolutely loved hearing their stories.
I asked so many questions about tiny details, and, thankfully, they obliged me. I learned so much from their stories: honor, perseverance, grit, despair, love. A gamut of emotions.
Then in college I interviewed a Civilian Conservation Corps member as part of a Texas Parks and Wildlife history project. It turns out that he was also a WWII survivor and had fought at the Battle of the Bulge.
He did the same as the Death March survivors, in that he asked if I really wanted to hear what it was like. And I said yes.
His son was listening to the interview and later told me that his father told me things he had never heard before, things that the son had tried to get the father to talk about.
I didn’t understand at first, but years later, I do.
It is often easier to talk to strangers.
To tell them the things you think a loved one might judge you for. Or that you don’t think they’d want to know.
But someone who’s really interested in storytelling, in listening to the details, in understanding the how, what, when, where, and why of the thing?
Because they’re easy to talk to.
Because they’re safe.
Because they’re interested.
Because they genuinely want to know.
And that feeling you get when you share? You feel heard. You feel seen.
It’s a powerful experience that I want more people to know.
Which is what I’m doing with my Postpartum Project.
Because we need this. To document our stories. To have our place in history. Big or small, positive or negative.
When I kicked off The Postpartum Project in June, I didn’t think it would be something that reshaped what I want to do with my business. But it has.
You see, it’s a merger of the two sides of one passion: photography + documentary
It’s bringing me back to documentary while also allowing me to create Vanity Fair-worthy portraits. It’s allowing me to finally merge my passions, which I had kept separate for such a long time.
I had kept them separate for so long, thinking I had to. But I’ve realized this year that this isn’t true.
I’ve realized that I can do what I want.
And what I want to do? I want to help you tell your stories. To help you document your highs and lows, your achievements, your milestones.
Because sometimes it takes hearing your own words describe what you’ve done to tell you just how far you’ve come, how you’ve persevered, how you’ve overcome any hurdles along the way.
And having portraits to go with the words? To see the emotion, the feeling in the imagery? Priceless.
And that’s what I’m doing with The Postpartum Project.
There’s a confidence that comes from motherhood that isn’t always there before. It’s self-awareness. It’s redefining the self under duress.
And the women I’m in conversation with? They want to see that in their imagery.
They want something that’s not a business image or and regular “smile at the camera” kind of image.
They want imagery that celebrates who they are, that they can treasure for themselves. That they can pass down to others. To connect the dots between generations.
They want to share their stories of shame. Of confinement. Of self-actualization. Of all the things that shift when a woman becomes a mother.
To help themselves. To help others.
Which is why I started with myself.
This experience, these self-portraits, they allowed me to go to a new level of vulnerability. I’ve never cried in front of a camera before. I never said some of the things I said before. Sure, I had thought about the rage, and I had talked about it with my therapist, but actually allowing myself to say what I was really thinking about it?
It allowed me to process so many thoughts and emotions I had set aside, that I had pushed away. It was freeing.
And you know what happened?
I started to find myself again.
To reconnect with my purpose.
Which I recently wrote down as this: “I help women own their story and place in history through portrait photography and visual storytelling.”
It changes a little every time I write it, but the core of it is always the same: helping women own their story and place in history.
Because we’ve been pushed to the side for so much of history that we’ve normalized it. We keep things to ourselves. We hide things. We let others take the credit. We apologize.
We fit in instead of standing out.
Does this apply to all women? Of course not.
But it applies to most of us.
And I know there are women reading this who’re thinking, “I love this, but my story isn’t important.” Or, “I haven’t done anything worth sharing.”
To these women I say this: You are important. You are worthy. Your story is worth sharing. No matter how big or small you think it is, I promise you, you’ve made an impact on someone else who would love nothing more than to hear your words and see your images, especially when you’re gone.
Don’t agree? Let’s conduct an experiment. Pick three people in your life that you trust wholeheartedly and that you know will give it to you straight.
Ask them questions like:
- “How have I been a positive influence on you?”
- “What are three adjectives you would use to describe me?”
- “If I were to be gone tomorrow, what would I be most remembered for?”
I promise, the answers will surprise you. They definitely surprised me!
So let’s take back control of the narrative. Let’s use our stories to stake our claim, to put our stamp on history.
To create our legacies.
It’s way past time we did.
Ready to learn more?
If you’re intrigued and want to learn more about The Postpartum Project, you can find all the details here.
Not a mom, but want to learn more about scheduling a storytelling session? Book a curiosity call below.