I won’t even tell you how many photos my computer holds. Albeit the most current years have fewer. I seem to take fewer. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve gotten better or if it’s because I haven’t the same interest I used to. Regardless, there are a lot. I have well documented all the parts of my family that I love. Each child. Each home. Each milestone. I have a photo of it. What I don’t have is any photos of me. There are simply just none.
I admit, I am camera-shy but I am regretting, incredibly, that there are no photos with my newborns and I don’t have anything to remember the walks and the crafts and the holidays that I was a part of. It sometimes feels as if I was never there. And that’s not the best feeling.
Photography. Sometimes I miss it. I never totally closed the doors on my business. I keep it “open” for my beloved annual preschool shoots and the few holiday session I do. I take a few families here and there. I miss talking to the people. I miss the connections. I miss that stuff but I am terrible at business and I was failing miserably at it. I think for the most part my clients love their photos but I can’t help but worry that I ruined their memories.
I’ve been looking for a personal photographer. I have contacted several people who either don’t have the time to fit us in their schedule or charge extra for more than 5 people. Absurd. My family is 7. It seems crazy to charge more for people who actually live in my house. It’s not as if we’ll break off into family units. We are a family unit. Just one. Needless to say, I’ve chosen not to book that person.
But looking for a photographer is hard. I have a limited budget. Not because I don’t value photography, I do but because I am a family of 7 on a limited budget and I want the very best I can afford without having to sell a child. And I am nervous that I am going to have photographer’s eye and miss that it’s my beautiful family and only see the pink panty and posing flaws of my last family sitting (which mind you was before Dixon was born).
It’s a lesson in letting go. It’s hard to let go of what I have in my head. I want my photos to look how I feel. Which is probably hard to capture when you subject has resting bitch face.
I probably should just pray for the photographer now.
If I ever find one.
Mom’s ought to be in the photos, right? I gotta make this happen.