I am much more protective of my feelings on motherhood than anything else in life. I am still working on unraveling just why exactly. I suspect because they are not always overwhelmingly exuberant, which I feel mothers rarely see mirrored or represented outside the darkest recesses of our minds. We are inundated with nothing but the happy wonderfulness so there is a built-in shame in feeling anything but, perhaps.Read More
Dear friends, I have spent •most• of my life dreaming of this smile. It has been an incredibly long road filled with want, determination, ample pain and discomfort, pride and satisfaction. I did this shit! To all those that listened to me whine, both before this journey began and throughout the last two years, I owe you a drink or ten, I’m sure.Read More
Lately I’ve drowned in thoughts and anxieties that shout the words: why-is-this-so-fucking-hard & why-aren’t-I-stronger into my own echo chamber and then I remember something I read recently that really resonated: Sleep deprivation is an actual kind of torture. It is. and needlessly, I had surrendered to moments of doubt and darkness about the strength of my family and our resolve and our indestructibility as a unit but especially about mine and my husband’s status as a team. But only because I did not truly respect the intensity of the obstacles we’ve faced. And cleared.Read More
I have to resist sharing every damn day because my phone is FILLED with photos and videos of her.Read More
his sweet babe is 5 months old today. Time passes so quickly, I’m always left with the tragic relentless feeling that I’m not fully appreciating or as present for every precious moment as I should be. For her, the days are still long enduring intervals in which eternities exist between dawn and dusk. For me, it feels as if every morning I have awoken from a long coma and she seems so much older than the baby I put to sleep the night before. It’s one of the hardest parts of motherhood for me.Read More
Lonely in trees, ignoring the sky because you’re angry, because you’re hurt
Asking for home, crying for family, searching for left behind souls in the dirt
I haven’t felt the unease of discontent or is-this-where-I-belong inquisitions I had grown so accustomed to in previous chapters in enough time that I finally took notice. Suddenly the asphalt under my feet became air and I was floating. And then fear tore me from the clouds and returned me to the bitter earth.Read More
Introducing the 6 metal plates that are a permanent fixture of my face now.Read More
Twenty years ago today I awoke to a world without my dad. He’d shot himself in the head in the next room while I slept. There’s something dreamlike about heading to bed one insignificant evening—with a father,— and waking the next morning without one; having someone and then so suddenly losing them.Read More
“I'm a fountain of blood. In the shape of a girl.” —BjörkRead More
The days are long but the weeks are short and the months turn to dust in the palms of my helpless hands.
This little chick is 7 weeks old today. And I am finally getting accustomed to this chaos.
“That first pregnancy is a long sea journey to a country where you don’t know the language, where land is in sight for such a long time that after a while it’s just the horizon – and then one day birds wheel over that dark shape and it’s suddenly close, and all you can do is hope like hell that you’ve had the right shots.” —Emily PerkinsRead More
If someone had asked me 10 years ago if I would plan to take self-portraits should I ever get pregnant the answer would have likely been a resounding yes. To document such drastic changes in this vessel I inhabit and be able to add that to my body of work, which was then and still occupied by so many beautiful and various female bodies I've photographed over the years? Well, of course. Ten years later when prompted with that question by several someones, my answer wasn't so certain, maybe even doubtful.Read More
When I became lost in the separation of child and mother,
Of myself and the other
When I became lost you became found
You climbed on to the backs of birds and
sailed between land and space for miles
Your back covered in feathers as black as the sky on a moonless night
each freckle an understudy for the veiled stars
I met Melissa, this red-lipped, beautifully inked, raven-haired woman less than 6 months ago. One day, nearly two months ago she confessed her love to me for Banksy’s balloon girl. She said she was dying to recreate it in a photograph for someone special to her, but wanted a snowy-filled backdrop. She wanted that vibrant red heart balloon to pop off a clean white setting.
I loved the idea.Read More
Do you see it?
The way the land piques beneath us, like your skin, my fingers hovering millimeters above it, anticipating my touch. Touch. The streets are scars and the rivers arteries feeding the body.
“Human lives are not pieces of string that can be separated out from a knot of others and laid out straight. Familes are webs. Impossible to touch one part of it without setting the rest vibrating. Impossible to understand one part without having a sense of the whole.” ―Diane SetterfieldRead More
Although I've done more than my share of trespassing, it was a bit nerve-wracking doing it so close to home.Read More
You hadn’t looked at me in days. You hadn’t really seen me in years. You saw only the heavy black clouds enclosing me. You didn’t understand me. You didn’t want to. You wanted something easier. You wanted to believe you deserved better. You wanted someone smiling back at you from future days. You wanted to stop cranking your neck backward in hopelessness and exhaustion.Read More