Heather Robinson Photography » Blog

the beginning

you should be sleeping. i know it is hard when the world is still so new, so colorful, so bright. you came into my life at a time that felt heavy and every second since you have arrived, i have buried my face in yours and breathed you in. your air is lighter than my own. i gave up on something i loved in order to prepare myself for something i love even greater. but now i am stronger, more hopeful. ready. today i return to my passion of telling our stories day by day. being able to add you to the cast of my favorite characters stirs my soul in the most extraordinary ways.

a normal day

On October 18th, my daughter was born and I became the mother of three children. Hundreds of miles away, on the same day, another baby girl was born and another woman added the third child to her family. We were complete strangers at that time, but our love of photography and family brought us together. We started to have a conversation about motherhood with images, because we tell stories with our cameras. Since some tales are so similar, and some are not, we decided to collaborate and share a photo a week from a normal day as a mother to three.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”         – Mary Jean Irion

big present.  even bigger emotions.

photo by Heather Robinson     blog | Facebook

Cabin fever looks like this.

photo by Olivia Gatti     website Facebook

a normal day

On October 18th, my daughter was born and I became the mother of three children. Hundreds of miles away, on the same day, another baby girl was born and another woman added the third child to her family. We were complete strangers at that time, but our love of photography and family brought us together. We started to have a conversation about motherhood with images, because we tell stories with our cameras. Since some tales are so similar, and some are not, we decided to collaborate and share a photo a week from a normal day as a mother to three.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”         – Mary Jean Irion

To celebrate three years of this beautiful partnership, Olivia and I have recreated our very first post.

Then

Now

photo by Heather Robinson     blog | Facebook

Then

Now

photo by Olivia Gatti     website Facebook

the effect of her being

“But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive:

for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts;

and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been,

is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life,

and rest in unvisited tombs.”

– George Eliot, Middlemarch

Heather Robinson

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Amanda Voelker

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a normal day

On October 18th, my daughter was born and I became the mother of three children. Hundreds of miles away, on the same day, another baby girl was born and another woman added the third child to her family. We were complete strangers at that time, but our love of photography and family brought us together. We started to have a conversation about motherhood with images, because we tell stories with our cameras. Since some tales are so similar, and some are not, we decided to collaborate and share a photo a week from a normal day as a mother to three.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return.”         – Mary Jean Irion

and-hr-12-8-16webcopywe went to the christmas tree farm today.  when we got there, we were told that they were out of fir trees already due to a shortage this year after the forest fires in the mountains.  we decided to hang out there anyway.  you all played in the bounce house and on the swing set there.  then i asked you to sit among the baby trees so i could take a photo of you.  i assured you that there would be warm homemade donuts in it for you.  i didn’t dare ask you to smile at me though.  just having you look in my direction was more than i ever expected.  after a couple of quick snaps, we grabbed some donuts from the shop there and got into the warm car and headed down the road to get a tree from a roadside lot.  the baby slept on the way.  as we walked around the tree lot, it began to rain.  through our shivers, we were happy.  excited about winter.  about christmas.  it felt good to feel excitement for a change.  today didn’t turn out as planned.  but sometimes the unexpected can be even sweeter than the expected.

photo by Heather Robinson     blog | Facebook

and_og_12-7resize Two out of three sharing a tub is about the best I’m going to get these days. I knew it was coming, almost a year ago, I called it. And thankfully, it doesn’t make me sad. In fact, it makes perfect sense knowing her and then knowing you two. I respect that she’s past this and I rejoice that you two aren’t. I’ll be sad when no one needs my help in the tub. Or maybe not. I can’t see that far into the future. Who knows? Maybe I’ll throw a huge party when I no longer need to be the life guard, the hair detangler, and the tub-toy bleacher.

photo by Olivia Gatti     website Facebook