Seeing Her Through My Camera

In 2000, my precious first baby girl was placed in my arms, and suddenly I wanted to preserve every moment.

At the time, I had a simple point-and-shoot film camera. Before long, I found myself down on all fours, trying to capture the sweetness of her little life from every possible angle.

I regularly brought rolls of film to the photo shop and waited—sometimes impatiently—to see what I had captured. Let’s just say the woman who worked there came to know me well.

Soon, she began flagging the photographs she especially loved. Her encouragement meant more to me than she probably realized. Little by little, my confidence began to grow.

For the first time, I started to believe that photography could be more than simply taking pictures.

Capturing the Big and Small Moments

By the time our second daughter entered the scene, my camera had become part of our everyday lives.

I pulled it out for all the milestones, of course—the birthdays, holidays, first days of school, and family celebrations. But I was equally drawn to the smaller moments: quiet afternoons at home, sisters playing together, sleepy faces, messy hair, and the ordinary expressions that revealed so much about who they were becoming.

Through my camera lens, I began to see and feel the magic of their childhoods.

Photography helped me slow down and pay attention. It taught me that some of life’s most meaningful moments arrive without ceremony. They unfold quietly in the middle of an ordinary day and disappear almost as quickly as they came.

My camera gave me a way to hold on to them.

Their Childhoods, Preserved

As the years passed, the photographs found their way into photo books that told the stories of our daughters’ lives.

The love I felt for them spilled across every page.

Each book preserved a season of our family’s life—the places we had been, the traditions we had created, the milestones we had celebrated, and the everyday moments we might otherwise have forgotten.

I treasured every photograph and every moment I spent arranging them into the stories of their childhoods.

Looking back, I realize that motherhood did more than inspire me to pick up a camera.

It changed the way I saw the world.

Photography taught me to look more closely, recognize beauty in ordinary moments, and preserve the stories unfolding quietly around me.

It began as a way to capture the lives of my daughters.

Somewhere along the way, it became part of my story, too.

When My Camera Went into the Closet

Then I returned to teaching full-time.

Over the past few years, my camera has spent more days tucked inside my closet than it has in my hands.

I miss it.

I miss the creativity it awakened in me and the joy I found in capturing our lives—especially the quieter, more ordinary moments that might otherwise slip by unnoticed.

Life became busy, and reaching for my camera was no longer part of my daily rhythm. I still took plenty of pictures with my phone, but it wasn’t quite the same.

There is something about holding my camera, looking through the lens, and deliberately choosing what I want to preserve that helps me become fully present.

I didn’t realize how much I missed that feeling until recently.

Finding My Way Back

So, I’m making a change.

I’m pulling my camera out of the closet and keeping it somewhere I can easily reach for it. I want it to become part of my everyday life again—not only for special occasions or carefully planned photographs, but for the moments unfolding quietly around me.

A familiar expression.

The light falling softly across a room.

Harry resting nearby.

A family gathering, an ordinary walk, or a quiet moment at home that I want to remember.

I know now that these seemingly small moments become part of the story of a life. Picking up my camera again feels like an invitation to slow down, pay attention, and reconnect with a creative part of myself that I have deeply missed.

Perhaps this is what returning to creativity looks like.

Not beginning again from scratch, but making room for something we once loved.

Taking it out of the closet.

Keeping it close.

And allowing it to become part of our lives once more.

Is there something you once loved that has quietly slipped out of your everyday life?

Perhaps it is time to bring it back into the light.