Her Honest Space

A gentle reflection on motherhood and memory — why taking photos became more than documenting moments, but a way to hold onto the everyday and preserve what matters most.

Growing up, I don’t have many photos to look back on. Not because the moments didn’t exist… but because they weren’t kept. Some were lost over time, and other times, life was simply too full. My mum was doing her best — a single mum, working full-time, raising three girls all close in age. She was in survival mode, and when you’re just trying to get through the day, things like photos, printing memories, holding onto the little moments… don’t always feel important.

Because of that, I never really became someone who documented life. I wasn’t the one taking photos, saving them, or looking back on them. I relied on others — my sister, my friends — and even then, I didn’t really keep them. I’m not a psychologist, so I’m sure there’s something deeper behind it… but for me, this is how I understand it.

What Changed When I Became a Mum

It all changed when I became a mum. I find myself constantly reaching for my phone, capturing the small things, the ordinary things — the little expressions, the quiet moments, the changes that happen so quickly you almost miss them. To the point where my phone storage loves to remind me it’s full. And sometimes I pause and wonder… why does this matter so much to me now?

Thinking back, I think it started with the milestone photos. Taking those pictures, sending them to family, sharing those little updates as he grew — it slowly shifted something in me. As my son was changing every day, I didn’t want to miss it, and I wanted the people we love to feel part of it too.

At my baby shower, I had family and close friends draw or write on milestone cards for him. So when it came time to take those photos, I found myself wanting to match each moment to the card someone had created — something personal, something made with love. I actually enjoyed the process — setting them up, capturing the moment, seeing how it all came together.

And not every photo was easy.

Some days he wouldn’t sit still — he just wanted to explore, to move, to be exactly who he was in that moment. But looking back, those are some of my favourites. Not because they were perfectly staged, but because they were real — full of movement, personality, and the kind of emotion you can’t plan.

And maybe that’s where it changed for me. It stopped being about taking a photo… and became about holding onto a moment.

It’s More Than Just Photos

I don’t think it’s just about having photos. I think it’s about holding onto something I didn’t have. Creating something my son can look back on. Giving him proof of how deeply he was loved in all the in-between moments — not just the milestones, but the everyday. The way he looked at me, the way his hand fit into mine, the quiet moments that no one else would think to remember… but feel like everything to me.

But if I’m honest… these photos aren’t just for him.

They’re for me too.

For the version of me who will one day be older, watching him live his own life. The version of me who will miss these days in a way I probably can’t fully understand yet. I want to be able to pull these moments back out — to sit with them, to feel them again, to remember not just what life looked like… but what it felt like.

I remember being at my partner’s uncle and aunty’s house, watching them pull out old photo albums. The way their faces lit up as they turned each page — remembering the moments, the laughter, the feeling of those times. It wasn’t just about what they saw… it was about what came back to them.

And I think that’s what I’m really trying to create.

Not just photos… but something that holds the feeling. Something that lets me return to this version of us.

Finding the Balance

But I also know I don’t want to spend my whole life behind a lens trying to capture it all. There’s this quiet balance I’m still learning — between being present and wanting to remember, between living the moment and holding onto it.

There are moments where I catch myself watching him through a screen instead of fully being there, trying to get the right angle or the right light, and I have to gently pull myself back. Because the moment is happening whether I capture it or not.

And then there are the opposite moments — the ones I don’t take a photo of at all. The ones that pass quickly, where I’m fully in it, and later I find myself wishing I had something to hold onto. Something to bring me back.

That’s the tension I sit in now.

Between not wanting to miss the moment…and not wanting to miss being in it.

Some days I take too many photos. Other days not enough. Some days I put my phone down without thinking, other days I reach for it constantly, afraid of how quickly everything is changing.

But I’m starting to understand it a little differently.

It’s the balance between cherished memories and documented ones.

We don’t need to capture every moment — our memory is a wonderful gift. And for me, it’s not only photos that hold meaning. Sometimes I capture a moment through writing instead — something I can come back to, read, and feel again. The emotions, the struggles, the quiet parts that a photo might miss.

And maybe that’s the balance.

Holding onto what matters… without feeling like I have to hold onto everything.

I’m just trying to find a rhythm that feels right — one where I can remember this season, without losing myself in the process.

And maybe part of that balance… is learning to step into the moment, not just capture it.

Being in the Frame Too

There was a moment that stayed with me.

I attended a funeral, and a mum was saying goodbye to her son. During the service, they played a video filled with photos and memories of his life. And as I watched, something quietly stood out to me… there were very few photos of her with him.

Not because she wasn’t there. But because she was the one behind the camera.

She was the one capturing the moments, holding onto them for everyone else… but not always in them.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I went home and looked through my own photos, and I realised something similar. There were so many beautiful photos of my partner and our son — moments I had captured without thinking twice. But when it came to photos of me and him, especially in that first year… there were far fewer.

Part of it, if I’m honest, was me.

I wasn’t fully comfortable in my post-baby body. I didn’t always feel like myself, and without really realising it, I avoided being in the photos. It wasn’t intentional… but it happened.

And seeing that made me pause.

Because one day, these photos won’t just be for him — they’ll be for me too. And I don’t want to look back and feel like I was missing from something I was actually right in the middle of.

So now, I try.

I take selfies when it’s just the two of us. I ask for more photos together as a family. It’s not perfect, and I’m still learning to feel comfortable in it… but it matters to me.

Because being part of the memory is just as important as capturing it.

A Quiet Promise to Remember

Maybe I won’t remember everything. Maybe the photos won’t capture it perfectly — the noise, the exhaustion, the way the days blur into each other, or how quickly he’s changing right in front of me. But they hold something — a feeling, a moment, a small piece of a life that is moving faster than I ever expected. And now I see it differently. It’s not just about documenting him, it’s about being there too — being part of the memories I’m trying so hard to hold onto, even if it’s imperfect, even if I don’t always feel like myself, even if some days I’d rather stay behind the camera.

Because one day, this season won’t be here anymore, and I know I’ll want to come back to it — not just to see him as he was, but to remember who we were together. So maybe I won’t get it all right, but I’ll keep taking the photos, I’ll keep stepping into the frame, I’ll keep holding onto what I can. Not just for him… but for me too.

Let’s Talk

Do you find yourself taking more photos now than you used to? Or trying to be more present in the moment? I’d love to know what this looks like for you