People often assume I became a photographer because I loved art or cameras or creativity.

And while all of those things are true now, the real reason I became a photographer is much simpler than that.

I became a photographer because I became a mother.

Before photography, I was on a very different path. I was in graduate school studying modern European history and fully expected to continue on for a PhD at Ohio State. But somewhere deep down, I knew I wanted something else too. I wanted marriage. I wanted children. I wanted a family life that felt present and connected, and I knew continuing down the academic path would make that much harder for me personally.

So after earning my master’s degree, I left.

At the time, it felt both freeing and terrifying.

I got married, and for the next several years I struggled to figure out who I was and what I was supposed to do with my life. There aren’t exactly endless career opportunities for someone with a master’s degree in modern European history, and I felt caught between wanting purpose and wanting family life.

After we moved to Dayton, Ohio and had our son, I thought I had finally figured it out. I had always loved fitness and health, so I applied to a graduate program at Miami University in health education and exercise science. I was accepted and offered a full scholarship.

I went to class that very first day.

And then I came home and knew in my heart I couldn’t do it.

The program required a long commute and hours away from my son several days a week, and something inside me just broke open. I didn’t want someone else raising him during those early years. I wanted to be there. Not because I thought every woman should make that choice, but because I knew it was the right choice for me.

So I walked away.

Again.

And honestly, that decision sent me into a season of confusion. I knew I wanted to stay home with my children, but I also knew I needed something that belonged to me too. Something creative. Something meaningful. Something I could build around my family instead of apart from it.

Then we moved to Tennessee after the birth of our first daughter, and somewhere in the middle of motherhood and everyday life, I picked up a camera.

At first, I truly was just “a mom with a camera.”

I had very little business knowledge. Limited technical experience. No grand plan.

I simply started where I was.

I took the work I could get. I learned little by little. I made mistakes. I slowly built a business while raising babies and trying to figure out who I was becoming at the same time.

Over the years, photography became much more than a job.

I attended workshops and conferences. I studied lighting and posing and storytelling. I pursued my Master of Photography degree and certification as a professional photographer. I entered print competitions. I kept learning and growing and failing and trying again.

But through all of it, I was also home.

I was there for baseball games and dance competitions and school events and soccer games. I built my business around my family the best I could, even when it was messy and exhausting and imperfect.

And somewhere along the way, I began to understand why photography mattered so much to me.

It wasn’t just about creating beautiful images.

It was about preserving connection.

The way a mother looks at her child.
The way families hold onto fleeting seasons of life.
The way photographs become proof that these moments existed at all.

I think that’s why portraiture eventually felt so deeply personal to me. Because I understood firsthand just how fast life moves. I understood the ache of wanting to hold onto it.

Looking back now, I’m also grateful my children got to watch me grow while they were growing up too. Especially my girls.

They watched me build something from almost nothing. They watched me struggle, adapt, fail, succeed, learn, and keep going. They watched me become an artist and a businesswoman in real time.

And maybe that was valuable too.

So this Mother’s Day, I’ve been reflecting on all of it.

The winding road.
The uncertainty.
The choices that didn’t make sense to everyone else.
The career I never planned on having.

And honestly?

I’m so grateful it led me here.

Grateful to be a mother.
Grateful for this business.
Grateful for every family that has trusted me to preserve a small piece of their story over the years.

Because in the end, motherhood didn’t pull me away from my purpose.

It led me straight to it.