On October 27th, 2016, I went in for my 40-week appointment—anxious, emotional, and more than ready to meet my baby. As I drove to the office, I silently begged the universe, “Please, just tell me it’s time.”
To my surprise, that’s exactly what happened. My doctor discovered that my amniotic fluid was low and gently told me, “It’s time to go to the hospital—you’re having this baby today.”
I immediately burst into tears. Even though I had been anticipating this moment for months, I suddenly felt unsure. Was I really ready? Doubt crept in. I was excited, yes—but scared too. Scared of the unknown. Scared of the pain. Scared of how everything was about to change.
My husband and I headed straight to the hospital. He ran back home to grab our hospital bag while I started filling out paperwork, feeling the weight of it all settle in. The induction process began slowly, giving me time to breathe, to settle, and—unexpectedly—to create.
As a photographer, I brought my film camera along. It felt grounding to document the in-between moments: the sterile calm of the hospital room, the light falling across the bed, the quiet anticipation on my husband’s face. I didn’t know then just how meaningful these images would become.
Labor intensified. The contractions were stronger than I could’ve imagined, and I held out as long as I could without medication. Eventually, I asked for an epidural—but the first one didn’t take fully, and the pain was intense. When they administered a second dose, I went completely numb. Hours passed in that liminal space of stillness, waiting for our son.
At 9 p.m., after a long and emotional day, we met our baby boy—Jude. As he was placed in my arms, I felt tears fall freely. I had dreamt of this moment for so long. I was finally a mother, and he was finally here.
Those first images—Jude wrapped in blankets, my husband cradling him, the way we looked at each other, forever changed—are sacred to me. They take me back instantly.
My mom flew in just days later to be by our side. I captured her holding Jude for the first time, her face full of tenderness and awe. These photographs are more than keepsakes. They are memory made tangible.
Looking back, I’m so grateful I brought my camera. Documenting those raw, quiet, powerful moments helped me process the experience as both a mother and an artist.
There is beauty in the in-between. In the fear and joy, in the uncertainty and love, in the way life shifts completely in one day.
This is why I do what I do. Why I believe in preserving every chapter—messy, sacred, transformative.
If you’re considering documenting your own birth or newborn story, and want it captured with heart, honesty, and art—I would be honored to hold space for that with you.
If you’re interested in having your own birth documented, shoot me a message here.
