45: Love

This is one from our trip to the beach in June. I know it looks like they are posing for me, but they weren’t. They are like this all the time when they are together.

43: Hope

I met Hope while our kids were learning the how to dance the reel.  Hope’s son, Henry, danced in the same class Avery at our Irish dance school.  

We were both expecting our fourth child just a month apart and were both planning to deliver our babies at the Midwife Center of Pittsburgh.  Naturally, we had lots to talk about.

That year, we marched in the St. Patrick’s Day parade with our big bellies poking out of our coats.  (I wish I’d handed someone the camera and gotten a photo of us together that day!)  

Dance class was the only time I saw Hope and her family.  I enjoyed seeing them there and was sad when I heard that they were leaving town.

This summer Hope’s family moved to South Carolina.  In September, Hope was diagnosed with cancer.  She wrote the story of her diagnosis here.  

Hope and her family came to Pittsburgh for a visit this week.  I asked her if she had some time for me to photograph her family.  She asked me to come to a family party.  I spent an hour at the party with Hope and her fun loving family.  It was wonderful to witness the love and support that is surrounding Hope and her family right now.  


There are more photos from the day.  They can be found here.

39: One Little Acorn

It’s all been about weather the past two weeks. A week of warm sun followed by rain and cold. I’m glad I spent so much time outside with my camera last week when it was so beautiful. I was like a squirrel storing acorns for winter.

38: Some Scary Stuff

Recently I wrote a short post about my decision to start a photography business. (Thanks for the encouraging comments. I really appreciated hearing from you.) I didn’t write much more that day because, well, I’m scared about the whole thing.

Having small kids has been the main reason for putting off being in business. But it hasn’t been the only reason that I have hesitated.  I have a laundry list of worries when I think about being a paid photographer.

What if I ruin the fun of photography for myself?

My life is already full. Where will I find the time?

Mean people.

I don’t know anything about running a business.

I’ll have to sell my work and talk about money.

There are already so many good photographers out there. 

I’ll be so busy taking pictures of other people’s families that I won’t want to take pictures of my own.

I could go on but you get the idea. All these fears have been in my mind, talking at the same time. Were they good reasons for not being in business? I couldn’t make it out.

Then one morning I read this post on Psychology for Photographers.  In the post, Jenika is writing to photographers – like me – who are afraid of marketing themselves.

“When you toil and sweat to produce something good, something beautiful and of the highest quality, it’s NOT just an abstract exercise. For you, your work is absolutely heartsoaked with your identity and love. It’s personal.”

The first step into healing a fear of marketing is simply recognizing where the fear comes from.

 You’re not afraid because someone will say your work isn’t good enough.

You’re afraid that someone will tell you your heart isn’t good enough.”

When I read that last line, I cried. I read it to my mom and cried again.

There were a group of fears dancing around in my head but this was the one fear that was really stopping me. Reading Jenika’s post brought my thoughts and fears about starting a photography business into focus. (Thank you, Jenika for taking the time to share your thoughts.)

One of my favorite books as a child was Bedtime for Frances. The little girl in the story can’t get to sleep and finds many reasons to come out of her bedroom.  At one point, she is in bed and sees something that scares her in the corner of the room. She thinks it’s a giant, gets out of bed and goes to tell her parents. Her father sends her back to her room to ask the giant what it wants. When she turns on the light, she discovers that the giant is her bathrobe on a chair.

And so it is with this fear of being told that my work – my heart – isn’t good enough. It has been brought out into the light for me to see and look at.  It’s not as scary as it was in the dark.