"We don't need a photoshoot to create memories. We do that every day...."

As a photographer, I often find myself reaching for certain phrases when talking about my work—phrases like 'capturing special moments' or 'making memories.' It’s the kind of language that feels comfortable, almost second nature. And yet, it only scratches the surface of what a photoshoot can truly mean for a family. The truth is, we make memories every single day, and they’re found in the smallest, simplest things that rarely make it into an Instagram post.


Think about the way your family gathers on a lazy Saturday morning. There’s bedhead, maybe pancakes, crumbs on the floor, sleepy laughter, and endless refills of coffee. Or the way a mother draws her newborn close to her chest, feeling that steady rhythm of life, whispering something soft and sacred into tiny ears. Or a father reading the same story for the hundredth time, watching his children drift into dreams with a smile that’s both exhausted and content. These moments are a part of our story, woven into our lives quietly but powerfully.


We don’t need a photoshoot to create memories. We do that every day, in every conversation, every embrace, every shared look. The purpose of a photoshoot, though, is different. It’s an invitation to pause. It’s like taking a deep breath in the middle of whatever season of life we’re in and saying, All of this—these moments, these routines, the laughter, the hard days, the unexpected joy—this all mattered.


When I work with families, whether it’s for a newborn session, a family shoot, or a birth, my goal is to help them take that pause. To create something that honors all the little moments that would otherwise pass by undocumented. Each photo becomes a bookmark, marking a chapter in their story.


For a birth session, this intention becomes even more powerful. Birth isn’t just about one memory. It’s a story of joy, courage, and complexity that’s hard to capture in words alone. Of course, a mother will never forget the birth of her child. But the birth experience is filled with so many moments and emotions, that can feel like a blur in the rush of it all. There are details and interactions—a partner’s gentle encouragement, a hand held, a tear brushed away—that often go unnoticed in the intensity of the moment.


Birth photography allows families to revisit these memories, to see themselves as they were in the midst of bringing new life into the world. And for the child, these images can become a visual story of where their life began, one they can revisit and reflect on as they grow. They aren’t just seeing photos; they’re seeing the love, the courage, and the incredible strength that welcomed them into the world.


When a child grows up and looks back at these images, they’re not just looking at “memories.” They’re discovering a part of their own story and seeing, perhaps for the first time, the depth of love that surrounded them from the very beginning. Photos like these create a sense of belonging and identity that’s uniquely powerful.


So, the next time I pick up my camera, I won’t be thinking about “capturing memories.” I’ll be thinking about honoring stories, about pausing with intention, and about giving families something that will help them say, "This season mattered, and it was good." Even with its highs and lows, even with its messiness and unpredictability.


Dear ones, a photoshoot doesn’t create memories—it simply holds them up, shows us their beauty, and reminds us why they matter.


With Love

D