Life has a funny way of twisting things—just as I learned getting pregnant wouldn’t be the straightforward journey I always imagined, I also picked up my camera and decided to give photography a real shot. In that very same month I was told IVF was our only option was the same month I started taking photos. One dream was paused, and another was born.

And in so many ways, my photography business has felt like the baby I can’t have (yet).

It takes everything out of me—time, energy, late nights, endless learning—but it also gives me so much back. I watch it grow. I celebrate the little milestones. I worry about it, obsess over it, smile at it, and love it fiercely. 

It’s something I get to care for when my arms still feel too empty. And it’s become such an important part of who I am.

And maybe this is the part that means the most and hits the hardest: the photos I create for you are often the ones I’ve imagined for myself. I can’t take the maternity photos I thought I’d have by now. I can’t line up newborn outfits or plan what my own family photos will look like… but I can pour that longing into capturing them for you. I get to create the images I’d dream up for my own walls and hand them over so they can live on yours.

I’ve also learned how many clients share pieces of this journey. Clients who have opened up about their own struggles, the waiting, the hurting, the hope. It’s heartbreaking how many people know this reality. But then I get to photograph the babies who finally made it here–the ones you waited for, prayed for, worked so hard for, and those sessions remind me that there can be light at the end of this.

So maybe this little business of mine is my “baby” for now even while something else feels so painfully out of reach. It’s the thing I can love and grow until, hopefully, another kind of dream comes true.

And if you’ve ever chosen me to capture your moments, please know—it’s more than just a job to me. 

It’s healing. 

It’s purpose. 

It’s hope.