It was chaos. And then—clarity.
We did a maternity shoot on a perfect late summer day at Plum Island, with my wife, our three-year-old, and enough snacks to hopefully prevent a full toddler mutiny.
Doing maternity photos with a toddler is basically an Olympic sport, especially when you’re both the dad and photographer. Three-year-olds are newly minted egos wrapped in tiny bodies, freshly aware of their autonomy, and usually not interested in anyone else’s agenda. Especially not mine.
I spent a good part of the afternoon chasing Mae around the beach, trying to convince (read: trick) her into kissing her mom’s belly or standing still long enough to get the shot. It was one of those sessions where I was both photographer and parent, toggling between “let’s make art” and “please don’t lick that.”
By the time we were ready to wrap up, I realized I’d been so caught up in the pursuit of great photos that I hadn’t fully noticed how beautiful the world around us was. The breeze was soft. The waves were rolling in. The salty air, buttery sand, golden light over the dunes. It was all magic, and I’d almost missed it.
Mae had run off again, but luckily, she came sprinting back toward us on her own. As she got closer, this tiny human (who somehow grew out of Sue’s body) flashed her signature tongue-out-to-the-side grin, and shouted:
“Mama, Dada… I love you so much!!”
It was like she’d taken all the love we’d poured into her since before she was born, stored it up in a little emotional pressure tank, and launched it straight at our hearts in one perfectly timed moment.
I didn’t fall over. But I definitely stumbled a little.
Sue and I looked at each other, full-on crying, as whatever stress we’d been carrying just melted out of our eyes. In that one moment, we experienced this overwhelming clarity. Like truth, gratitude, and love had folded into a single point of light, and there was no separation between us.
No photographer hat. No parent stress. Just connection.
That moment reminded me: it’s not always the beautifully posed photos that end up meaning the most.
Sometimes the most powerful images (the ones we carry with us) come from chaos. From running. From wild declarations and windblown hair and everything going not according to plan.
And no, I didn’t get a picture of that exact moment.
And honestly, I’m glad I didn’t. If I’d been fiddling with my camera, or trying to adjust settings, or worrying about the light, I might’ve missed it completely. I wasn’t thinking like a photographer right then.
I was just someone’s dad. Someone’s husband. Standing on the beach, witnessing something holy.
But if there’s one thing that would’ve made that day truly perfect, it might’ve been having someone else behind the lens. Someone who knew how to step back and let the joy unfold. Someone who could recognize when we were starting to feel self-conscious and gently offer a prompt to bring us back to each other instead of into our own heads.
It’s a tough balance to strike: to be fully present and try to capture it all at once.
Even my wife, who had both me and my professional camera nearby, couldn’t resist pulling out her phone during the shoot. And I get it. Sometimes the instinct to document can take over the experience itself.
So if you ever do want help planning for a session where you don’t have to worry about all that, where you can actually live in the moment without trying to hold onto it at the same time, I put together a guide:
And here are a few more favorites from what turned out to be an unforgettable maternity photo session with a toddler.
Okay, so Im all for capturing the magic of parenting, but honestly, my internal monologue during family photos is more like Okay, look at the camera, smile, dont lick the sand, *wheres my other kid?!*. The article makes a great point – sometimes the best art is just watching the chaos and loving it. And yeah, trying to be both lets make art and please dont lick that simultaneously is a true parent superpower… or a recipe for madness. Almost missed the kids adorable chaos-filled declaration? Happens to the best of us, I suppose. Though the idea of someone else handling the lens while I just… exist…? Priceless. Sounds like a dream job!MIM
Hose sessions are REAL, folks! 😂 toggling between make beautiful art and no touching the weird seashell! Absolutely relatable. Almost missed the whole scene because I was *so* focused on getting the perfect shot of the windblown hair (that never happens anyway). And yes, the toddler running off is the *real* story, not the technically perfect photo. Love the truth that the best moments are the messy, chaotic ones – like when Mae decided to sprint back screaming I love you so much!! and we both just cried, forgetting the camera entirely. Perfectly captures why we need someone else to *actually* capture the chaos were living through! Definitely nodding along to the struggle of trying to be both parent AND photographer – its like juggling fire while riding a unicycle!