The first birth I ever photographed was on a sunny morning in June. My phone buzzed.. Labor was beginning. This was the moment I had planned for and I immediately began to get all my own ducks in a row for the day to be ready at a moment's notice. My kids were set with their Auntie for the day, my husband would pick them up after work. I already had my bag packed and ready to go. And then I waited. My husband got home early from work, my kids came back home, and still I waited. Truthfully, I was quite nervous that my client forgot to call or ended up delivering before she was able to call, but I was grateful that this was not the case. Her labor was slow and steady until the late afternoon which is when I got the call that contractions were 5 minutes apart and gaining intensity. Finally the moment I had waited for! I got in my car and sped off unable to stay within the legal speed limit, admittedly. On the way I prayed. For this mom, this baby, this birth. I prayed that I would be able to capture photos that this couple would love and cherish for years to come. I had such a strong sense of humility in what I was privileged to be a part of, and in that moment it became clear that this was all I wanted and all that mattered. And it's the prayer I still pray, by the way, when I'm headed to a birth. My ability as a photographer is only as good as my ability to capture the essence of each birth and the heart of each family.

When I arrived the sun was not yet setting but hanging low and soft in the sky. The street, the yard, the house were all still and silent. I took a moment in my car to collect my excitement and calm my nerves-- not wanting to disturb the birth space with my own high energy vibes. I tip toed inside and prepared to capture the birth. Twinkle lights were strung throughout the bedroom where Mama was laboring on her bed, the birth tub beside. Scriptural birth affirmations played softly. The room was filled with peace and calm. She was still breathing strong through contractions, intentionally resting in between. Dad was peacefully filling the birthing tub, pausing for each contraction to be by her side. When my client's aunt arrived she took over and painstakingly filled the tub pot by pot with hot water to bring it up to temp, while Dad took a permanent spot alongside his wife to time contractions and offer support through his hand to hold and shoulder to lean on. It was beautiful to watch this mother be taken care of so well by her partner.

It was not long after that the midwife arrived. I assumed a spot in the corner, mentally mapping out my pathways and angles in a way that would not disrupt her work or disturb my client. Mama decided it was time to get into the birthing tub. She was vocalizing through increasingly intense contractions and remaining focused as each one settled. The lights she had hung for this very moment glittered atop the water that rippled softly with her movements and settled like glass as she rested.

Her birth team waiting patiently, supporting her with words of encouragement. As she neared transition she asked her husband to talk to her about something in between contractions to take her mind off of them. he sweetly told her of their two older boys and their day playing t-ball. This sweet, intimate moment was a short reprieve before transition began and each wave came crashing upon another. Before long she was getting the urge to push, crying out deeply through each contraction. She said defeatedly "I can't do this any more" to which her husband and midwife responded in unison "you ARE doing it!"

And she did it. With so much strength, even when she thought she couldn't go on. Baby descended and made his way into her intensely exhausted, loving arms. Mama leaned back engulfed in relief and gratitude to have her baby in her arms at last. Mama stayed with her baby in the tub, gaining composure for a few minutes before excitedly checking its gender-- a third baby boy to join their family. Many more moments proceeded of the two of them taking each other in amongst the warmth of the water. No rush was made to transition out of it quite yet. Dad gently and lovingly took a cloth and washed the remnants of birth from baby's full head of dark hair. Baby boy was fully content to float in the water taking in these new yet familiar sights and sounds.

This was the first birth I had witnessed rather than experienced and these memories are close to my heart as a photographer and as a mother and woman. To see birth from the outside looking in was tremendously humbling and I felt truly honored to be there. And I was 100% certain that this was the right journey for me to take. I was validated by this experience that birth IS worth capturing. That it IS beautiful and raw and worthy of holding space in you photo albums and on the walls in your home. Birth photography is worthy. I'm so grateful to offer it to the mother's here in Northwest Wisconsin.