Miss Avery turned one just over a month ago and they celebrates with photos of her in her fancy pink tutu, which is definitely a must when you have two big brothers. And of course we had to sneak in some photos of them too.
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Seattle/Tacoma
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SEATTLE/Tacoma
Photographer
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Fresh on the blog
When I go to church on Sundays I often return home with the inevitable headache. It’s not that I don’t like church, it’s actually a place I feel like I can sit, breath and reflect for a minute. But what I don’t like is large groups of people. I don’t do well chatting in large groups. I get anxious and I don’t know how to do the small talk thing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like to connect with people. I really enjoy making connections and building relationships, but I struggle to find that in big groups. So I think when the headache hits, it’s because I start to feel frustrated, lonely, and a total lack of belonging. When church is supposed to be a place for community, a place to belong when the rest of the world feels like it’s rejecting you. But my nerves and anxiety become an interruption of that connection.
But today, today I was taken aback, caught off guard by an assumption I was making. One of the most kind and loving members of our church, who seems so connected with everyone, was vulnerable and shared her struggle to feel a sense of belonging. To me I’ve always thought, why can’t I connect with people like she does, what is wrong with me?
Then I had a though. What if most people, maybe even all of us (if we were truly honest) feel like we don’t belong. I think we all struggle with that, whether it be teenagers in the hallways of their middle school, moms on the playground (me!), or even people in the midst of their own family. But maybe, maybe that’s because we don’t belong. If you are like me and believe in an after life, for me it’s heaven, maybe that is our true place of belonging. A place we can really call home, a place where we never question whether or not we belong, because we feel it inside of us. And this place here on earth, in these bodies, is temporary. It’s like being out of town, it’s nice here (at times), but it’s just not home.
So, what if we could recognize in each other that pain of not feeling like we belong, and help each other feel like we belong. Connect in our human-ness, in our pain. And I don’t mean by trying to fit in, not expecting others to conform to what’s cool or trendy. But really love each other. Not through compliments on looks, intelligence and achievements. But by sharing our stories of love and pain, and listening to the stories of love and pain from those around you. And respond with empathy and support. Raising one another up to feel like they belong, making space for you to feel like you belong. Until one day we return to that ultimate place of belonging. Where there isn’t a doubt or question. Let’s walk through this together.
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“What makes you different or weird, that’s your strenth.”
-Meryl Streep
I saw this quote this morning and it hit me hard. Ever since Friday when I wrote my last blog post I have been beating myself up. That entire evening I kept thinking, “you should delete that, that was stupid”, “those thoughts aren’t valuable to anyone”, “who do you think you are, you don’t have anything worth sharing.”
And yet there was no voice in my head telling those words to shut up. They just kept going, right into Saturday. Only they quickly moved on from the blog into something more harsh, that rejected me and the person I am. Thoughts like, “your a bad mother, you’re not doing enough for them,” “why and the world do you think you can be a photographer, go back to teaching,” “Ugh, you are too fat, lose some weight.” And they went on and on and on. Feels, good, right?
And it’s baffling that those really unkind words about me were coming from ME! If anyone ever spoke to one of my children, family or friends like that my Mama Bear mode would turn on and shut those people up. And yet I don’t see myself worthy enough to shut those voices off for myself.
I wish I could say those thoughts are gone, they’re not. But with a good nights sleep, a cup of coffee and with that quote from Meryl Streep, I am (slowly) realizing I can at least tell those voices to shut up. They still creep in. But I know I have an inner strength that has gotten me to the place I am. My weirdness is actually a good thing. It’s the way God made me, He intended for this quirky girl to be here walking the earth, mothering the children He gave me and taking steps on the unexpected path He’s put me on.
So if you are like me and have those ugly words creeping in far too often I can’t tell you how to stop them, but I can tell you, you can reject them. Because all those things that you are picking on, are really what gives you strength. Embrace them, love them, share them, they will help you move forward when everything else around you feels dark. They are what give you the beautiful, beautiful soul that you have.
“Owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we’ll ever do.”
-Brene Brown
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This week I got to witness my friend give birth to her baby boy. She and I have had a lot of conversations about motherhood and how, especially, with you first baby it feels like parenthood has suddenly grabbed you by the shoulders and eaten you up. There are thousands of emotions coming at you at once. First off this intense feeling of love (which takes a while for some), but there is also an intense mourning for the freedom you once had. Your time, your body, your sleep, your plans and whatever else are no longer yours. When you think you are in control of motherhood, it actually takes control of you. And their are days you want to step away, but it’s not a job you can easily quit. But at the same time you couldn’t imagine life without these little people. Where you are brought to a point where you can’t remember life without them. It almost seems as if you have known them YOUR whole life, since you yourself were a child.
I have found myself, now with 3 babies, and five and half years of parenthood, accepting the fact that I have been swallowed up, and even though it’s as hard as hell, enjoying it, loving it, accepting it. But in tha instant of accepting this life, I am quickly finding myself being forced to let go. Let them live, let them be who they are, and even send them into the world without you by their side, holding their hand.
Benjamin, my oldest, starts kindergarten in September. Once again I am filled with intense emotion. There are days I don’t think twice about it, I’m ready for him to go. He’s my kiddo who knows exactly how to push my buttons. But then I feel overwhelmed with sadness, my baby boy is growing up WAY to fast. And I know the minute they start school, life really takes off. I worry about some little jerky kid hurting his feelings and me not being there to knock them over. I don’t want to let go.
But after watching my friend birth her sweet baby boy, I realized from the minute we step into parenthood we already have to start letting go. That baby she spent months growing in her belly, has to be pushed out. And then handed over to the nurse to hold him, weigh him and give him a vitamin K shot. And you have to sit their from a far listening to their cries. There are more painful moments of letting go, like sending your four month old off to daycare for someone else to care for, making them cry it out to sleep, and putting away those baby clothes they don’t fit in anymore. Then there are all those little things you start to let go of that that you don’t even notice because you’re too busy trying to survive; putting on their own shoes, sleeping in a big kid bed, or letting them play in the backyard without your constant presence.
We are constantly letting go. These are reasons to celebrate, but it doesn’t mean it’s painless. From the minute we are parents we are holding on and letting go at the same time. It’s a strange place to be. I guess the only way to survive, is to feel the feels. Sadness, joy, anxiety , celebration, fear, and pride, it’s all there to feel, and often we feel it all at once. I’m just trying to figure out how to allow it all in and let it be.
p.s. These aren’t all of mine, but I’ve watched all of them grow up (way too fast).
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My sister has been wanting to update her kids individual photos for quite some time, but life is busy. So randomly on a Sunday evening and we had a mini-session in my back ally. It took 20 minutes, minus the time they spent playing with my kids. They washed their faces and came in the clothes they were in, it was quick and painless. The only hard part, was I wanted to keep going. I may be biased, but they are as cute as can be.
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photography & filmsEmily Hogan