One of the hardest lessons I learned as a young woman is to never put people, especially those you love, on a pedestal. For years as a child, teenager, and young woman, I held my mother in such high regard that I thought she could do no wrong. She was absolutely perfect in every way. Unfortunately, I was setting up our relationship for failure. When I discovered her brokenness, the glass house I meticulously built around her in my head shattered. It was devastating to find out she had flaws that ran very deep and parallel to my own. Oh how my pride and vanity melded into anger. It took a long time to accept the person, the mother, I discovered in the wreckage. I now realize how unfair it was to put her up on that perch in the first place. This is a lesson I certainly learned the hard way, and one I desperately want you to avoid.
A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of documenting a dear friend and mother of two. This is Jessica and she is as beautiful inside as she is out. One of my first Artifact Motherhood sessions (link to her AM session here), she has since welcomed another son into her sweet family. We’ve been discussing, on and off, of doing a similar session with her newest addition. A few of my favorite moments from her motherhood summer story below.
It’s no secret that my favorite thing to do is to capture the beauty of ordinary moments--the moments otherwise missed or overlooked. What if we had someone to document our families day in and day out? What would yours look like? I’m a firm believer that we don’t have to create a backdrop to paint the beauty of our families. The beauty is here; the beauty is now.
I can't remember if its summer or spring; however, the grass is green; it's a mild day, and the wind whips through my curls. I am in the front seat of an old white Chevy pickup truck, windows down, and Abbey Road playing in the cassette player.
Here comes the sun. do, do, do, do.
here comes the sun, it's all right.
My dad is singing to me. I'm grinning from ear to ear; everything is as it should be. No worries, carefree, watching my hero thump his thumb on the steering wheel.
We turn down a road with trees on either side. Their branches embrace one another creating a natural cathedral above us. The rustling leaves from the breeze make the light from the sun dance on my lap as we bump along. We are headed out to the land, a small slice of country my parents bought and hoped to build a house on one day.
This is as far as my memory can take me. A few moments of the distant past that I often drift back to. The way my dad was singing, the smell of the old pickup, the light dancing on my lap. The love and warmth of this moment comforts me.
Your grandfather, my dad, has been in my thoughts quite a bit recently. Rightly so, November is a very special month. A month we celebrate the lives of loved ones who have passed away as well as your late Grandfather’s birthday.
On our way to school, a few weeks ago, a Beatles song came on the radio. I could so vividly see and feel him sitting next to me, singing and tapping along ot the beat. Almost as if a faucet of emotions had been turned on and very much unwanted on our drive to school, I could not stop the flow of tears. You, my oldest noticed right away.
“Why are you sad, Mommy?”
Oh so inquisitive, kind, and compassionate you always are. What a loaded question to lay before me at seven in the morning. I explain that you can feel sad without having your feelings hurt. Your heart can ache because you miss someone, and you can smile at the same time because the memories you have of them are warm and happy--what an odd emotion to verbalize..
In all honesty, the tears still sting, my heart still aches for conversations that will never be, but I can’t help but smile. His music always brings a bittersweet comfort, even if I have embrace the stings to get to the smiles.
As I say "I love you" and give kisses goodnight, I tell my little loves that I am always with them-- forever. Its sobering, knowing I won’t always be with them physically. I find comfort that these songs may one day bring them back to this peaceful place: where the grass is forever green, light dances on their laps, and I am singing. This is what I mean by forever--the secret place, deep in our memories and hearts.
Welcome to Artifact Motherhood. This is a collaboration of artists from around the world who have come together to share our stories of the joys and struggles of our journey. Through our writings and visual records we want to create memories that are more than photographs with dates written on the back. These are the artifacts we are leaving behind for our children and for generations to come. Up next is the amazingly talented Abigail Fahey, click here to follow along.
You can also read more about Artifact Motherhood by clicking here.
Liesl changed my life. And I thought I had a pretty good life before she came around. It’s one of those things that scared me the most about motherhood. The fact my husband Jake and I loved each other so much. We had a great life before her. I was afraid that I was going to mess that up. In no way, shape, or form did that happen. Liesl enriched everything about our lives. She made Jake and I a stronger couple, me a better person. She helped solidify priorities that I am happier with now than the priorities I had before. She helped me value myself more than I ever did before. Which is weird, because you think of being a mother as giving yourself to someone. However, I found other aspects of myself that she basically gave me.
Young and in my early twenties, motherhood wasn't on my mind. I didn't think much about things of that nature. At that time I didn't want to be married, much less be a mother. Those feelings changed when I met my husband. It wasn't until after we said our I do's that I realized children and being a mother was something I did, in fact, desire.
As a child, I remember holding my baby doll and dreaming of having a little girl of my own. I recall telling my dad, Daddy, I can’t wait to get married and be a mom.
I have always wanted a daughter. Growing up, I had faith God would bless me with one. He did, he blessed me with two! In high school I would buy little girl stuff in hopes that someday I would be able to give to them to my little girl. I’ve kept those things over the years, and I now have it for them. After graduating high school I remember telling my dad, I’m not going to college, I’m going to get married and have babies. Daddy just giggled. Truth is, I did end up going to college and graduate school, where I met my husband Terry.
