The Gift I Get To Give
I didn’t grow up surrounded by the kind of love I photograph now. Maybe that’s why I see it so clearly.
I got asked other day if it’s hard for me to photograph weddings. You know, with all those tender, intimate moments between mothers and daughters, or fathers and their little girls, or families who just seem to get each other.
I took a deep breath before answering, because honestly… it used to be.
In the beginning, yeah… it hurt like hell. Not in a jealous kind of way, but more like a wow, that actually exists kind of way. Watching a dad tear up during a first look, or a mom buttoning her daughter’s dress while whispering something only they could hear, it used to gut me. Because I knew what that kind of connection looked like, but I didn’t know what it felt like… and they didn’t even realize how rare it was.
I didn’t grow up in a family that showed love loudly. Ours was a low-effort kind of love, the kind that showed up just enough to say they did, but not enough to make you feel seen. There weren’t big hugs or emotional talks or teary “I’m proud of you” moments. Just the bare minimum. So when I started photographing weddings, I was suddenly surrounded by the kind of love I used to daydream about.
Weddings gave me a front-row seat to something I didn’t grow up with: raw, unfiltered emotion. The kind that spills over when no one’s pretending anymore. There’s something about weddings that brings out the sentimental feelings in even the toughest shells. It’s beautiful… but I won’t lie, sometimes it still stings.
Over time, something shifted. I started realizing that the stuff that used to hurt me the most had somehow become my gift. The moments that used to sting, the hugs, the closeness, the way families love each other out loud…those are the things I notice first now. Some people might take them for granted, but I can spot them from a mile away. I know which moments they’ll look back on and realize, that was it. Maybe not today, but years or even decades from now.
And that’s why I photograph the way I do. I think, deep down, that’s why I do what I do. I give people what I wished I had: proof that they were loved, seen, and valued. Even if they don’t realize it right now, I hope one day they’ll come across one of their photos and really see it. Maybe when life looks different, or someone’s missing, or everything feels too fast, they’ll pause and feel that moment again. They’ll see what I saw: the love, the connection, the proof… something real to hold on to, the moments that meant more than anyone realized at the time.
You know that feeling when you’ve spent forever searching for the perfect present for someone? You’ve paid attention, you’ve really seen them, and you finally find it. You wrap it with intention, knowing it’s going to light them up. You can’t wait for them to open it and you feel that rush of joy. It’s that lump-in-the-throat moment when they realize that, someone really sees them.
That’s exactly how I feel when I deliver a gallery.
Those moments that used to rip my heart open… are now the ones that fill it up. Because when they look back at their photos and cry tears of gratitude or joy, I know I’ve given them something real, something with intention. Something they can hold on to, the moments that meant more than anyone realized at the time.
My story has always been about giving people what I didn’t get to have. And every time I pick up the camera, I get to do that.
Maybe I’ll never fully experience the kind of moments I capture for others, but in a strange, sacred (and maybe even a cheesy) way, I get to experience it all through them.
When the Pinterest trends disappear and the magazine features are long forgotten, what’s left are the real moments, real people, and real emotions. And I get to be part of that. And honestly, that’s the greatest honor of all.
