Originally published on 19th August 2020 – World Photography Day
When I first wrote this post, I hadn’t yet dreamed up Milk Tales, my breastfeeding photography book. But as I look back, I can see that the seeds were already there. So here’s a slightly updated version of my story, a little peek into how it all began.
Related article: Why I Wrote My Breastfeeding Book
My Journey into Motherhood Photography
I’ve always loved photographs. I used to sit with my dad, going through slide films and boxes of prints, reliving moments, laughing at memories, getting lost in stories. He had a proper camera, one of those that clicked with purpose and I thought it was magical.
Some of my happiest moments when I visit my family in Italy are spent digging through those old boxes. There’s something powerful about holding a photo in your hand and feeling time slow down.
I fast forward a bit otherwise I get boring . . .
If I had to pinpoint the moment I truly fell in love with photography, it was in 2006, during a trip to Malawi. I was 24 and spent a few weeks living in a small missionary community in one of the poorest countries in the world.
It was raw, eye-opening, and unforgettable.
Every morning, I’d wake up early, excited to meet people, help where I could, and capture the stories unfolding around me. I kept a diary, and I took photos, lots of them. Not for Instagram (which didn’t exist back then), but to remember. To feel. I only had a small compact camera back then so the quality of the photos is not great unfortunately, but when I see hehm the images are vivid in my mind.
Photography had the ability to capture the place and the experience I was living and that moment in my life.
And the children, oh, the joy they showed when I turned the camera around to show them their faces! Laughter, surprise, curiosity. They saw themselves, sometimes for the first time, and their reaction lit up the air around us. It was electric.
Then, I started noticing the mothers.
They were everywhere, doing everything. Strong, graceful, always carrying their babies with them—on their backs, on their fronts, wherever they needed to be. They walked with purpose, worked with their little ones close to their hearts. They breastfed openly, without shame or judgment. It was natural. It was life.
I didn’t know it at the time, but something shifted in me on that trip.
Motherhood photography found me before I even became a mother myself.
Years later, when I had my daughter and began my own messy, beautiful, exhausting journey, those memories came back with a different kind of clarity. I had seen the quiet strength of mothers before, I just didn’t know how much it would mean to me until I joined them.
That trip was the start of everything. The storytelling. The emotion. The desire to document not just the smiles but the struggle too.
It took years, a lot of learning, and many brave clients trusting me with their stories, but today, I’m proud to say that this isn’t just a job. It’s a calling.
Photography still makes me happy.
These early photos, taken with a tiny digital camera, may not be technically perfect, but they’re part of my beginning. And they remind me why I do what I do: to capture connection, to honour truth, and to celebrate motherhood in all its forms.
And this job makes me happy! Through my lens, I get to celebrate strength, softness, and the raw, beautiful reality of motherhood, whether through maternity photography, newborn sessions, or honest storytelling projects like Milk Tales.
If you’d like to see how this journey evolved into Milk Tales, my book about breastfeeding and the real stories behind it, you can find it on Amazon.
And if you’re curious about my current work, come say hello over on my Instagram page or visit my website – I’d love to connect with you.
