Last year Huffington Post shared a wonderful article by a mom who, like many of us, didn’t want to be photographed because she felt fat or unmade or just not “her best” but who forced herself into the photo for the sake of her children. That post, Mom Stays in the Picture, is a worthy read for we moms who feel less than excited about being captured “as is” forever. Last year my sister wrote about this very thing on her Northern Life blog. It’s something most women can relate to.
I have recently begun the entertaining, emotional and exhausting task of sorting through 101,000 family photos (you think I am exaggerating, but that is the actual number from just 2005-2013!!!). Just like so many moms out there and many of you reading this now I am finding a shocking dearth of photos with ME in them. My kids, it would appear, live with their daddy, play with their daddy, dance with their daddy and vacation with their daddy. I don’t appear to be there. Sure, I can hope the evidence of my love exists in the insane quantity of moments I felt deserved capturing, but will it? Even if they know I TOOK the pictures wouldn’t it be so much more meaningful if they had photo evidence that I was there? Proof that I lived, played, danced and vacationed with them. Even if my butt looked big or I had a zit or my hair was messy or I just felt unattractive. My kids don’t care about that. Not one little bit. They just see Momma. A Momma who plays and hugs and dances and loves them.
Last year I did a photo session with a long-time client who had been battling cancer. She was in remission and was looking, to me, beautiful and vibrant and alive. Her hair was still short, working it’s way back along with her health. That day we were photographing just the kids. Knowing her situation, I really wanted to see her in the photos with her children. I asked her “Don’t you want to jump in for a few?” “Not today, I don’t feel put together. Maybe in a few months, when I am 100% again.” I pushed a bit more, to no avail. She didn’t feel beautiful that day. Four months later I heard the news that her cancer had come back, with a vengeance, and she had lost her battle. I cried. I felt heartbroken for her beautiful children. And I felt a little bit angry that I hadn’t prevailed in my quest to get Mom in the picture. No one would care how perfect she had looked that day, because she was perfect. She was a momma who plays and hugs and loves her children. And she was there.
Although I already knew it on some level, that day I realized the incredible importance of this message. Moms, stop worrying about how you look. Who cares about your hair-do or your acne or your muffin top? I don’t, they don’t. You are a beautiful, wonderful, powerful and immensely valuable person, JUST. THE. WAY. YOU. ARE. One day those photos will be all that is left of this journey we call life. It is simply too fragile, beautiful, wonderful and important. I beg you, moms, GET. IN. THE. PICTURES.
While sorting those old photos I came across these photos from 2006. That’s me, chubbier than I wanted to be, bad hair day, blah blah blah. Who cares???! I did, back then. In fact, I almost deleted these photos when I downloaded them because I thought I looked fat. Thank God I didn’t. As I read my own words above and look at my sweet baby girl in my arms, I am literally sobbing. How absurd and selfish and ridiculous would it be for me to throw away this beautiful moment because of vanity?
Just look at us! I love my girl so so much and, thank the Lord, there is a photograph to prove it.

