Hi there.
A few weeks ago, I showed up at a client's front door for a newborn session. By the time we meet in person, I've already talked with my clients enough that they feel like a friend - so when she opened the door, I went straight in for a hug.
And then she told me about her night.
She and her husband had been up with the baby, who cried inconsolably for hours. There she stood in her beautiful dress, hair done, looking every bit the put-together person she is (a doctor, by trade, someone no stranger to long nights)... and she was bone tired.
I knew that look. I knew it in my whole body.
When my first child was born, I didn't just lose sleep.
I lost a sense of myself.
I had been an ESL teacher to refugees in Harrisburg - work that felt meaningful and alive. And then, in what felt like an instant, that chapter closed. I made the choice to stay home, and I don't regret it. But I wasn't prepared for what it would feel like to grieve something you chose.
If the baby was fussy during our church service, I stepped out. If it was mealtime and I was breastfeeding, I was suddenly on the outside of every social gathering. If the baby fell asleep on me... well, there I stayed.
I remember thinking of that scene in Sleeping Beauty - Maleficent telling the prince he'll have to wait 100 years, and the cartoon showing him limping out of the castle as an old man.
Ok YES. It's dramatic. But that's the way I felt.
Like everyone else was moving forward while I was frozen in a world of spit-ups, potty training, temper tantrums, and yes - there were baby belly laughs, dimpled hands and first steps, too.
All of it there, all at once. The beautiful and the hard, all tangled up together.
The thing that made it harder was feeling like I shouldn't complain. Because look! Look at all the good things. I should be grateful. I should be head over heels in love with being a mom. This new world should be enough.
So... what's wrong with me.
It's that tension - which suddenly turns "I'm tired" into a deeper question of "who am I?" - that makes this season so difficult to talk about freely.
Here's what I want you to know, from 16+ years down the road
I'm not writing this to fix anything or hand you a tidy list of solutions. I'm writing this because that mom deserved to be seen that morning, and so do you.
If anything, I don't think your situation needs to be fixed. Because there is incredible value in this drudgery you're going through.
Nothing is wasted.
Not the sleepless nights. Not the identity crisis. Not the feeling of being a shapeless blob whose whole existence revolves around one tiny human. All of it - every ounce of patience you're developing, every instinct that's quietly taking root - is doing something in you, and the process can't be rushed. It takes time and pressure to make diamonds.
You will come out of this changed - and that's actually the point.
On the other side of these newborn trenches, you'll find things about yourself you didn't know were there. Some of them will surprise you in the best way. Some of them you'll need to sit with and process. But here's the thing - coming face to face with yourself is the first step toward becoming who you want to be. That's not a small thing. That's actually everything.
Poke your head out of the cave when you can.
Not because you have to perform wellness or pretend you're fine. Just... find small ways to breathe. A walk outside. A conversation with a friend who gets it. A moment that is just for you, even if it's five minutes in the car before you go back inside. How do you want to feel? Find the small action that fits.
Be kind to yourself.
There's a lot change happening - not just in your baby, but in you.
Surrender yourself to the process, even when it's uncomfortable.
That morning, I photographed a newborn who had kept his parents up all night. The session was soft and slow and real. We chuckled over how sleepy he was (of course!). 😂
We had to coax big brother into every shot.
And somewhere in the middle of it, I watched that exhausted mama look at her baby and smile the kind of smile that lives underneath all the tired.
That is what I'm here to capture.
Not the perfect version of your family. Not the moment where everyone cooperates and the house is perfectly put together and no one has spit up in the last 20 minutes. The real thing. Your real life, your real love, your real face on a hard day that is still, quietly, a beautiful day.
You don't have to be rested. You don't have to have it together. You just have to show up - and I'll take care of the rest.
If you're in the newborn season right now and you've been thinking about booking a session - even through the fog, even when it feels like a lot to coordinate - I want you to know that I will meet you exactly where you are.
No pressure. No perfection required.
Just your family, as it actually is, captured in a way you'll be grateful for years from now when this season feels like a distant, tender memory.
Reach out here and let's talk. I'd love to be a small bright spot in what might be a really hard week.
With love,
Naomi
