
September 20, 2026
I hear some version of this before almost every session.
“Just so you know, I’m really awkward in pictures.”
Sometimes it comes with a laugh.
Sometimes Mom points out the side of her face she likes better.
Sometimes she tells me she has no idea what to do with her hands.
And sometimes, if we’re being really truthful, “I’m awkward in pictures” isn’t actually what she means at all.
What she means is:
I don’t really like having my picture taken.
I don’t feel like myself in this body right now.
I don’t know how everyone else seems to look so natural.
I’m worried I’m going to spend all this money and love everyone in the photographs except me.
That last one?
That’s a big one.
So before your next family, maternity, or motherhood session, there’s something I really want you to know.
You are not supposed to know how to do this.
Somehow we’ve started believing that being “good in photographs” is something certain people naturally know how to do.
They know where to put their hands.
They know their angles.
They somehow know exactly what to do with their chin.
And the rest of us apparently missed that class.
But when you see a photograph of one of my clients looking relaxed, confident, and completely natural, you’re only seeing the finished photograph.
You’re not hearing everything happening on my side of the camera.
Move just a little closer.
Drop that shoulder.
Turn toward me.
Put your hand here.
Look at him.
Now forget about me for a second.
You’re not seeing the tiny adjustments.
You’re not hearing me give direction.
And you’re definitely not seeing the photograph I took thirty seconds earlier while we were still figuring everything out.
The women in my photographs don’t arrive knowing exactly what to do.
I’m guiding them.
That’s an important distinction.




You don’t need to stand in front of a mirror and figure out your “good side.”
You don’t need to spend three weeks practicing poses you found online.
You don’t need to know what to do with your hands.
You don’t even need to know how to stand.
Actually, I’d rather you didn’t think about most of it.
Because while you’re worrying about whether your arm looks right, you’re missing your daughter laughing beside you.
While you’re trying to remember where someone on Instagram told you to put your chin, your little boy is reaching for your hand.
That’s not how I want you experiencing your family photographs.
I want you in them.
So I’ll worry about the rest.
I’ll pay attention to your posture.
I’ll watch your angles.
I’ll make the little adjustments that flatter you.
I’ll tell you where to put your hands.
I’ll tell you when something isn’t working.
And I promise I’m not going to stand ten feet away silently hoping you magically figure it out.
This is what Beautifully Guided™ means to me.
You aren’t expected to know.
You’re expected to show up.
I’m the one who needs to know.


This one deserves its own conversation.
Because I’ve heard it so many times.
Maybe you don’t feel completely at home in your body right now.
Maybe you’ve had a baby.
Maybe your clothes fit differently than they used to.
Maybe you keep telling yourself that after you lose ten pounds, you’ll finally schedule the photographs.
I understand why that can make getting in front of a camera feel vulnerable.
And I’m not going to tell you how you’re supposed to feel about your body.
But I am going to tell you something I’ve watched happen again and again:
Your children do not see you the way you inspect yourself in a photograph.
They aren’t looking for the number on the scale.
They know your lap.
Your arms.
Your laugh.
The way you look at them.
They know what it feels like when you pull them against you.
That’s the woman I’m photographing.
And someday, when your children look back at these photographs, I promise they aren’t going to wish you had waited until you were ten pounds smaller.
They’re going to be glad you were there.


I think there’s an important balance here.
Because sometimes conversations about motherhood photography swing so far toward:
“Your kids don’t care what you look like!”
that we accidentally dismiss something very real.
You care.
And that’s okay.
You are allowed to want photographs where you look beautiful.
You are allowed to want to feel confident.
You are allowed to care about flattering angles and beautiful clothing and gorgeous light.
You are allowed to look at a photograph of yourself and think:
Oh my gosh. I love that.
I want that for you.
That’s why I don’t believe the answer to insecurity is simply telling women not to care what they look like.
The answer is creating an experience where you feel taken care of enough that you don’t have to obsess over it.
Thoughtful styling matters.
Lighting matters.
Posing matters.
Direction matters.
Experience matters.
Those are things I should be thinking about so that you don’t have to spend the entire session thinking about yourself.
Because something changes when that happens.
You relax.
And that’s usually when I get to see you.
Here’s something I wish more women knew before their session:
You don’t have to arrive confident.
That’s not a prerequisite.
The first few minutes might feel unfamiliar.
Of course they do.
There’s a camera pointed at you.
But then we start talking.
I give you something to do.
Your husband says something ridiculous.
Your child interrupts whatever I had planned.
You laugh.
Your shoulders drop.
You stop wondering where you’re supposed to look every three seconds.
And somewhere along the way, you realize:
Oh. I can do this.
That’s the transformation I love watching.
Not because I’ve suddenly turned someone into a different woman.
It’s actually the opposite.
She stops thinking so much about how she looks and starts being herself.
That’s the woman I was waiting for.
When I photograph a family, there are certain images I know Mom will want.
Everyone together.
Everyone looking.
Beautiful light.
A photograph worthy of being framed.
We’ll create those.
But there are other photographs I’m quietly watching for.
The way your baby reaches for your face.
Your daughter’s arms around your neck.
Your nose buried against your toddler’s cheek.
The expression you make when one of your children says something completely ridiculous.
The way they fit against you right now.
Because they’re not always going to fit there.
And one day, these photographs won’t only be yours.
They’ll belong to them.
Your children will see what you looked like when you were raising them.
But more importantly, they’ll see what it looked like to be loved by you.
That’s why I want Mom in the photograph.
Not hidden behind everyone.
Not always taking the picture.
Not waiting for some future version of herself to finally deserve to be documented.
Here.
Now.
Exactly in this chapter.


So if you’ve been avoiding family photos because you’re “awkward,” I want to take that responsibility away from you.
You don’t have to be photogenic.
You don’t have to know your angles.
You don’t have to know how to pose.
You don’t have to arrive overflowing with confidence.
And you don’t have to spend the entire session trying to make yourself look beautiful.
That’s what the guidance is for.
Come as you are.
Let me pay attention to the things you shouldn’t have to think about.
Let your children climb into your arms.
Let your husband make you laugh.
Let yourself forget about the camera every once in a while.
And let me show you what I can see from this side of it.
Because the goal isn’t to photograph a perfectly posed version of you.
It’s to create something beautiful from the life you’re already living.
Your children are going to want proof that you were there, too.
So, Mom—get in the photograph.
I’ll tell you what to do with your hands.

You don’t have to wait for an easier season, perfectly coordinated children or a version of your family that feels more “photo ready.” The season you’re in right now is already worth preserving.
If you’re ready for family photographs that feel beautiful, connected and unmistakably yours, I’d love to create them with you.
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