
June 2, 2026

There’s a particular kind of weight that comes with motherhood when you’re also trying to heal yourself at the same time.
Not just care for your children.
But actively unpack:
While simultaneously trying to raise tiny humans in a healthier, softer, more connected way than you were raised yourself.
It’s beautiful.
And overwhelming.
And terrifying.
Sometimes all at once.

I don’t think people talk about that part enough.
The quiet fear underneath motherhood.
The constant wondering:
I think when you become aware of generational patterns and trauma, it becomes impossible not to notice your own humanity constantly.
And honestly?
That awareness can feel crushing sometimes.
Because now you see things.
You notice your reactions.
You notice your triggers.
You notice the moments you wish you’d handled differently.

“It’s okay to make mistakes.”
I tell them that all the time.
Because it’s true.
Mistakes are human.
The real question is:
I want my daughters to know they do not need to be perfect to be loved.
And if I want them to believe that…
I have to learn how to believe it about myself too.

Part of me is fully in motherhood:
And another part of me is quietly revisiting my own childhood simultaneously.
Remembering things differently now.
Understanding things differently now.
Realizing how much children absorb emotionally, even when they don’t understand the full story.

That’s the hardest part to explain.
I feel blind because I can’t fully see the future.
I don’t know how every choice will impact my girls.
I don’t know how life will unfold.
I don’t know what moments will shape them forever.
And yet…
I also feel like I can see too many futures at once.
My brain plays out:
All at the same time.
It’s like standing in front of a thousand doors knowing you can only walk through one.
And motherhood doesn’t let you pause long enough to feel fully certain.
You just keep moving.

Especially the mothers trying to break cycles.
The mothers trying to parent differently.
The mothers trying to stay emotionally present while healing wounds they never fully had space to process.
We are carrying:
That’s a heavy emotional load.
Even when it’s rooted in love.

I don’t think good motherhood comes from never making mistakes.
I think it comes from:
I think children need less perfection and more humanity.
They need to see:
Because that teaches them they’re allowed to be human too.

There are parts of myself I probably never would have confronted if I hadn’t become a mother.
Motherhood has exposed:
It has also shown me:

Because I think mothers deserve to be seen too.
Not just as caregivers.
But as whole people.
Women carrying:
At Alabaster Photos, I’m drawn to photographing real motherhood.
Not perfect motherhood.
But emotionally honest motherhood.
The kind that says:
“I’m trying. I’m growing. I’m learning too.”

Maybe motherhood is less about certainty…
and more about presence.
Showing up.
Repairing when needed.
Learning alongside our children.
Allowing ourselves to evolve.
Maybe our children don’t need us to know everything.
Maybe they just need us to keep trying with love.

I see you.
The mothers:
You are not alone in this feeling.
And even in the uncertainty…
there is something deeply beautiful about choosing healing anyway.

Alabaster Photos offers emotionally driven family, motherhood, maternity, and storytelling photography sessions designed to preserve connection, healing, and real life.
📍 Downtown New Richmond, Wisconsin
📸 Serving Hudson, Baldwin, River Falls, and the greater St. Croix Valley
🤍 Photography for mothers, families, and cycle breakers becoming who they were meant to be
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