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
i grew up with a mother who could sew. not only could she sew but she did it very well. she sewed all of our halloween costumes. she sewed our curtains. she sewed to mend things. she sewed for fun. i never once asked her to teach me to sew because it did not look like fun to me. in fact, other than threading a needle, i didn’t know the first thing about using a sewing machine when i took a home ec class in junior high. the teacher knew my mom. they probably had fun sewing together before. so she assumed that i would show my classmates a thing or two about sewing. boy was she wrong. i cried my way through the sewing of that ugly blue sweatshirt. and then i cried some more as i sewed that autograph pillow. i hated every single minute of sewing and couldn’t wait for the class to move on to the cooking section. you learned early on that your weren’t going to grow up with a mother who could sew. therefore, you gave up asking me to teach you. instead, you figured it out on your own. now you find whatever you can get your hands on and sew with it. today it was leftover vinyl from the time that daddy recovered the dining room chairs. the vinyl was so tough. but that didn’t stop you. you used scissors to make a row of tiny holes. you couldn’t find any thread. but that didn’t stop you. you managed to thread a needle with yarn. and there you sat with your good arm sprained sewing me a new purse.
Lost in a dream. You and I. I’m getting closer to you, I can feel it. You have more to say now and even started asking questions that make sense in the moment. We practice human speech everyday, everywhere. It is happening. I really can feel it. But just as big and bright as this can feel, I also feel the opposite. I feel overwhelmed and scared for you. You can’t relay your day or tell us if you are hurt and how. You disappear from us and don’t meet our eyes. You speak nonsense to us and I feel the breath leave my body. I don’t know how to express how scary this is. How beautiful this is. How much I love you. At least we are lost in this together.