But the years, the years were so fast. So fast, that when I think back to your first steps, I struggle to remember. So fast, that baby pictures of you are a little person I barely recognize anymore. Your language skills are so intricate and elaborate, it’s hard to believe that just a short 3 years ago, your word for carrot was “ah-ah-ah.”
I know there was a time when you wanted nothing to be in my arms, but these days, that time is reserved for when your sleepy or tired because the rest of your days are filled with running and playing and jumping. So fast. So fast that tonight as I ponder your first day of school this week, I’m regretting wishing any of those days would end at all.
On the eve of your new adventure, your foray into the real world, I wish I could just stop time.

I thought of all the times I held your hand and waved a smile of encouragement every time you succeeded. The times I gently guided you when you needed a little extra help, or witnessed your latest discovery as you would rush over and jump into my lap to show me.

The last four years of my life have been a roller coaster of bliss and absolute chaos. Between you and your sister, I more often then not felt like I was barely holding my head above water.

Still I don’t regret one single second.
You had to come first. As a family we would struggle with my limited income as I built a business that would allow me to work from home, but you would thrive. Given the opportunity to explore your world at your pace, you took it all in.

my first mother’s day gift from you

The cautious caterpillar you were emerged a social butterfly.

You engaged in the world in ways that were beyond my comprehension and my comfort level, and still I followed your lead. You were given independence when you asked for it, and I was there for a reassuring hug when your confidence faltered.

I’ll always remember how my arms were a safe place for you to regain your footing when you would stumble socially. “I love you maman,” you would say as you bravely dismissed the rejection of older kids who didn’t have the time to talk to a toddler. And then you would run off to play again.

It wasn’t always playdates and walks to the park. The days were sometimes long, and I was sometimes exhausted.
Giving up my career meant losing a little bit of myself – the part of myself that I had cultivated my whole adult life. It meant walking away from the only thing I had known as an adult. That was hard.
It also meant a new identity for me, one as a mother. Was I “mom” material? I never used to think so.
Now, there was this new part of me, one that wasn’t even physically attached to me but walked around outside my own body. One whose absence filled my heart with a dull ache. It’s true what they say that having a child is like having your heart walk around outside of your body.

I definitely doubted my ability to be a good parent. I knew it would be hard.
But what I couldn’t possibly know was all the joy. From the moment I first held you in the hospital until now, there has been so much joy. You ask nothing of us, and most of the time, we don’t have a lot to give, at least not in terms of physical goods.
And yet, everything we have to give you take with an open heart.
All the times when you would come up and give me a kiss for no reason at all, my heart could just burst. Joy.
I dress you in second hand clothes, and you still found your favourites in the piles of previously loved outfits. You have about one quarter of the toys that I’ve seen in other kids’ houses, but that doesn’t bother you either. You love and play and give without reservation, and I am the lucky recipient of much of your affection.

I watch you grow and try to give back to you all that you have given me. I make sure you have the tools to learn the things that interest you and the help you need to find your own path.

I know that one day soon, you’ll stop asking your dad to take you outside to look for crickets, and you’ll stop asking me to lay with you while you drift off to sleep. I know the days that you look at me with amazement are numbered.

You will go off to school and there will be people there who are hipper than me, smarter than me and who will enthrall you in ways that I could not—at least that is what I hope for you. I wish you all the best teachers who challenge you and test you and show you things that I could never. Not because I’m uneducated or uninteresting but because new people bring different perspectives and offer fresh views that you won’t experience at home. And that is amazing. I’m not arrogant enough to think I should be your only teacher. My knowledge is limited by my experience. You have interests that aren’t always my interests and other people can teach you things that are beyond my scope and comprehension.

So as you board the bus for the first time, I will smile bravely because I will know how much you need to see me smile back at you. But as I walk home, you can be sure that I will shed a few tears. A bittersweet mixture of sadness, joy, pride and excitement for you will surely overwhelm me. So don’t look back little one because I need you to think that I’m just as brave as you are on this day. I want nothing but the most confident foot forward for you as you go out into the world and show them how special you are.

And I will wait for you, at home to hear all about your adventures, as we cuddle together, because I know it goes by too fast.

As a mom of two babies who didn’t exactly recover her body in between pregancies, you could say I’m feeling a little vulnerable when it comes to my body. You could also say that I pretty much hide from the camera a lot of the time (one of the benefits of being a photographer is that you are expected to take more pictures than you are expected to pose for).

Still, I saw my children’s lives rolling along a breakneck speed and I wasn’t in any of the photos. Here I was preaching to all the moms I met how important it was for them to get in the photo, and I wasn’t doing it myself.

I do try not to dwell on my body and it’s current state too much. I try not to say anything negative about my body in front of my children, and I try to honour the place that grew my two littles. It’s not always easy. Some days I just look in the mirror and sigh. I know that they won’t be little forever and the day where I can make myself a priority again (at least for a few hours a week) will come.

But in the meantime, I can’t let their childhood be documented in my absence. And truth be told with proper posing even someone who isn’t thrilled with how they look in the mirror, can be quite pleased with how the camera treats them.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with how you look, and realistically there isn’t really anything wrong with how I look either, I just don’t like it. And pretending that I should just get over it won’t change that fact. Maybe, like me, you’re working on loving yourself a little more, and that’s awesome. But as we do that, can we just take some pictures of us that don’t make us cringe?

xoxo

Carrie

And my youngest is only 11 months!

Laurie contacted me about doing a “First Blush” session for her son’s arrival.

As with all things in life (especially birth), other things came up that nixed that session.

Instead we opted to do a “Welcome Home” session, which is quickly becoming one of my favourite types of baby sessions.
Mom and Dad settle in for some one on one time with baby, and as they bask in that “babymoon” glow, I photograph the new family in all their splendour.

There’s nothing like seeing a father look at his partner and baby with just pure love and adoration, and Mike wasn’t shy in showing his affection for his new little family.

Laurie and Mike, thanks for inviting me into this little slice of your life!

My sister at 16. I was all of 18 when I took this photo.

And it’s not just that I liked it. People loved what I did. They framed the photos and put them up on their wall. And I loved it too. I could disappear into the darkroom for hours, losing hours of daylight and tainting the tips of my fingers in the chemical baths. My trusty Nikon FE2 had become my most prized possession. And my photographs had become an extension of me.

Those around me trusted me to capture the most precious moments in their lives and they relive those moments by looking at those photos every day. Sometimes, I see those photos on their walls. Othertimes when distance separates us, I see the photos on their walls through photos they post on facebook, and it makes me feel closer to them even though they are really far away.

A couple of weeks ago, my husband went to visit my cousin and his family. My cousin’s son was turning 16, and we had been invited to his birthday party. I was working, but sent along my best wishes and my two kids!

When he got back, my husband told me a story about an interaction he had with my uncle while visiting. You see, when this same 16 year old boy was a baby, I snapped a photo of him and his grandfather. So as my uncle was showing my husband this photo of the sweet boy who was just a baby then, and is now almost a man, my uncle asked: “Guess who took this photo?”

I smiled as he told me the story because I knew the photo.  I knew it well. That photo is on display in my cousin’s home. It has moved with them several times over the years, but in each new home it has found a place of honour.

That photo is cherished by my uncle, by my cousin, and surely by my cousin’s son now.

I wish I would have been there to take a photo this beloved treasure, but I wasn’t.

Maybe some other time.

So instead I’ll share a photo of my own babe, because it makes me smile. I hope it makes you smile too.

Yep, I put a pink wig on my baby. What of it?

You don’t have time to shower until 11 p.m. and when you do it’s so rushed that you forget to shave your legs (until your toddler, affectionately stroking your leg says:”Mommy, what’s that? Fur?”– in which case you drop everything else and take care of business!)

You get it? It’s time. It’s time to put you first. It’s time for you to feel beautiful. It’s time for you to remember what it’s like to wear a clean shirt that isn’t designed for nursing, and to bust out that favourite lacy bra of yours. It’s time to remember what it’s like to wear heels and OMG- makeup.

Come on Mom,

you’re worth it. I promise.

Your Modern Glamour session (Mod-Glam as we affectionately call them) can be anything you want from soft and pensive to sultry and sexy (boudoir anyone?) So come and get your groove back mama!
Daddy will thank you!

“Carrie easily captured the love we have for one another and our joie-de-vivre. She made us feel comfortable to be ourselves, this to laugh and relax – this combined with her expert eye and talent made for some wonderful photoshoots,”– S. Roy

I truly believe that comfort and confidence are the two basic ingredients to any successful photoshoot.

Why is that? Because if clients have confidence in the process and comfort in being themselves in front of my lens, then everything else just comes together.

The best sessions I have had, have come from times when the clients have expressed a certain kinship with me. I strive to get to know all my clients in a way that will allow us to capture them at their best– nothing forced, nothing contrived, just their naturally beautiful selves.