The Birth of a Mother
Matrescence. I remember the first time I came across this word at university and how it stopped me in my tracks. Coined in the 70’s by an anthropologist and romanticized by artists across the creative world; it simply means the process of becoming a mother. So much of conceiving and carrying a life is about the end result; the bringing of baby earthside, but rarely is the journey of mothering discussed in its own right. That all encompassing and life altering experience and how there seems to be a stark before and after moment so clearly mapped and defined in your life – who you were before you were a mother and who you are after. Matrescence in this sense, is not so much about the physical changes you go through but the physchological and emotional transformation that takes place as you take on this new identity of being a mother. What an incredibly overhelming, transformational, terrifying, joyous and unexpected thing it is to watch yourself develop into both an entirely different person and intuitively the person you have always known yourself to be. You are so different and yet just the same all at once. One could almost say everything everywhere all at once. And yes, just like the namesake movie, motherhood is difficult (minus perhaps the utter bizarreness of the film), watching that strange Oscar-winning movie recently made me realise how much being a mama has changed me; I now even see movies from a mother’s perspective. What struck me as particularily interesting whilst watching was all the doubt, anxiety and deep regret that comes with each season of mothering and whilst I only have small children and not complex teenagers yet, it is perhaps only through the journey of parenthood and being a mama that you come face to face with your own demons, your regrets, your deepest fears and anxieties, your own complex childhood, your unfufilled potential and the deep desire to want better for your children.
In this sense, I think that matrescence, the process of becoming a mother, is one that is fluid and in constant movement and development; who I am as a mother to a newborn is entirely different to who I am as a mother to an older child or even who I was at the two points in my life that I gave birth to my children. It is a fluid identity and a lived experience that is constantly adjusting, recalibrating, learning from mistakes and correcting. It is also wild and intuitive, organic and unlearned, spontaneous and rough, frustrating and gentle, purposeful and spilling over with love. So much love.
For me, photography isn’t just about taking beautiful pictures (although, that is of course, always the intention), it’s about redefining what beautiful means and basking in the realness of motherhood and its messiness, attempting to get beneath the surface level of meeting someone and waiting for an unguarded moment where you are truly seen and capturing that. That doesn’t mean that an experience with me means that you have to ‘be prepared’ or be ‘open’ (whatever that means) but it does mean that you have to be present; present in this moment with me, with your baby, with your love, with the ones who love you. Half of that is just showing up, the other half is remaining there, both physically and mentally and in that there is so much room for organic tender moments to creep up to the surface.
Ultimately, I want you to be able to look back at your photos and see it as a gateway to that moment in your life; a tangible keepsake of a memory that is not only yours but also theirs. It’s funny when you think about it but what for us is just another day, for them, is their childhood. This is it. This is their childhood, and the best that we can do is show up, be present and gift them precious captures that one day will become vintage photos from ‘the good old days’. These are the days. The good days are happening right now.
In true motherhood style, I end my first journal entry with photos of my ‘why’; my two beautiful boys Adam & Zach, taken at home on a surprise March snow day, who inspire me to become more of the myself I was always meant to be, every single day.
