My oldest daughter has the worst case of FOMO that I have ever witnessed. She struggles to make decisions between two things she wants so often that we often prepare her in advance for activities that will require sacrificing things she may want to do. We talk through it and spend time processing the pros and cons of each choice in order to lower the stress on her mind of being presented with several good choices. She just finished her holiday list and it took weeks for her to narrow it down to a reasonable number of requests. If I’m being honest, I am the same way when it comes to making photos of our life.
When I look at these sweet faces I love so much I notice how there is not a trace left of their baby cheeks anymore. Their squishy fingers only live in my memory now. I used to watch them fall asleep every night. Now I shout down the hall “Lights out now, girls. Good night. Love you!” and then peek in their room an hour later to make sure nobody is up reading a book with a book light late at night. It’s excruciating to allow our life to pass without making photos and videos of their every move. I think Eva Mendes said it best when she said “...this is the most creative thing, is to create life with them,” And yet, these feelings of loss and renewal with every new chapter have made me increasingly more selective about when I choose to pick up my camera.
One of the concepts that keep me inspired and motivated to documentary family photography is the idea of being intentional with family photos. Having a camera in our pockets everyday has made it so unbelievably easy to document our lives without limits. We are able to capture moments of our children’s childhoods - a privilege that many of us didn’t have. When I was born my parents could not afford to buy a camera, much less to pay to develop film after film. All my baby and childhood photos were gifts from family and friends who generously gave their time to take photos of me and my siblings. This supercharged my feelings of wanting to take seriously the task of creating time capsules of my daughters’ childhood and our experiences together. But I quickly learned that when it comes to time spent documenting our life, less is more. The preoccupation of pulling out my phone all day long, the stress of not wanting to forget all the little in-between moments, and feeling constantly called by the share button - it took something away from me. I felt trapped in relying on photos to remember what life looked like, and in the process I lost opportunities to know, deeply, what life truly felt like.
The more photos we take, the more our photo-keeping systems get filled, the more overwhelming and laborious it becomes to look back on the most special moments of this parenting journey. More photos and videos do not equal higher value of the memories we have documented. This is the real gift of documentary sessions that I fell in love with - both in my own life and as a service to other parents. We get to be intentional about setting aside time to document this chapter of our lives and know that we are capturing something beyond what life looks like. We are making photos that feel like us - our bonds, our humor, and unique way of moving through this universal experience.
