I'm not supposed to say this

I know there’s some unspoken rule that moms aren’t supposed to say this—but I loved having babies. I was lucky to have three mostly uncomplicated, natural deliveries, and I have never felt more powerful than in wake of those labors.

For weeks, I ran on pure adrenaline, high on oxytocin and disbelief, feeling like a straight superhero.

It wasn't till right around the time that the culture says “you should be getting back to normal now” and the babes hit their first sleep regression (around 3-4 months) that I would sink.

Every year, fall season feels a little like that.

(A little, okay? This is a parallel, but clearly labor takes the cake.)

The energy builds, the pace picks up, I’m all in and running on pure creative adrenaline. The light, the leaves, the family connection - it all feels like some beauty elixer that has me spinning around on mountaintops like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

And without fail, somewhere soon after the eldest daughter birthday party and Halloween mayhem, I start to feel the exhaustion creeping in around the edges.

Doing this work for over a decade means a lot of practice with the rhythm, though - work hard, play hard, rest a little, repeat. It's a practice in staying steady in all the corners of my life, embracing the momentum of a season, but not leading myself into an active emotional volcano.

I’m wrapping up my ninth local school this week, still photographing families through the end of the year, and still lovingly trying to keep my eyes and heart open for the beauty tucked in every corner. So this week’s letter is taking a shortcut.

No tidy bow or big takeaway. Just me trying to keep the wheels on the bus through the busiest stretch of the year.

In those days, weeks, or months after having a baby, eventually the adrenaline dips. Real life sinks in. Shit gets hard. You eventually discover there's a new kind of delight in learning how to keep going.

// new + noteworthy //

A BOOK // I don't have one. I need fiction. I finished Beartown and it was… heavy. I was gripped by the depth of backstory and empathy the author pulls on for each flawed character. But now I'm paralyzed. Tell me what to read next?

A POEM // Dear Daughter by Jess Urlichs. Holy smokes. Just claps.

A PODCAST // New Photo Fuel!! I'm opening up spots to the retreat tomorrow, so this one's all about next-level education, masterminds, and what to expect with this first cohort in 2026. Show Notes on the Blog | Listen on Spotify | Listen on Apple |

CREATIVITY | FAMILY | SIMPLE JOYS

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