the smith family at home

I photographed the Smith family on the day a winter storm was rolling in. It was freezing outside but their home was cozy full of love. I went to high school with Melissa a long, long time ago and hadn’t seen her in years but I had fallen in love with the beautiful way she lives. She lives with gratitude. I love the carefree way she unschools her girls, the way she cooks and nourishes, the way she implements oils into their daily life. The day I went over to shoot, baby Koah was just a little over a month old. He was born at home surrounded by the whole family. As you’ll see in these pictures, this baby is cherished by the stair steps of big sisters he has. This spring I took a few nursing shots of Melissa under our blooming magnolias. Their nursing journey has not been smooth but we celebrated the victory of making it till today and the beauty of it.

Thank you Smith family for letting me into your home and allowing me to tell this story of this time in your full life.

victory flags

My feed these days is filled with fear. Articles released seconds before are already reposted, articles weeks old are still being shared, opinions are voiced loudly, in a way I feel like they are screaming at me. Every human I know is scared. I start shaking after just a few minutes of intaking it all. The words I collect as my thumb scrolls by pierce all the way into my marrow. Some days I shut it all out and I feel a little bit better. But right now, in the middle of all of this, sitting in our home, aching for relationships, I am drawn back.

Because I see the bread. Loaves of golden bread in a neat little row, reminding me of a different era. At first I feel a prick of jealousy. I haven’t showered in days , my children are acting like wild animals. No one will be stopping by, so I leave the dishes in the sink and they spill out onto my counters. There is no bread on my counters.

But that photo reaches into my heart and grips it. This bread is not just something yummy to eat because all the shelves are bare. This isn’t a brag. This is a victory flag in a time of change and unrest. My jealousy melts away and suddenly, this person’s joy becomes mine…becomes ours.

From the lord of the flies situation in my home, I could easily look at the craft makers, the bread bakers, the cheerfully posed picture takers and I could just die a little bit inside with an ache that longs to be more like them. But when I stop comparing and start celebrating, everything takes on a new glow. Not only am I surrounded by beauty but I feel the collective hand grasps across the globe…a whispered “We’ve got this.”

It’s the little squares that show:

A mess of paints and eager hands.

The shadow a daffodil makes in the morning sun.

Love through the smudged window.

A makeshift homeschool space with beauty woven through it.

The music people are sharing, freely, purely.

The poetry being written…and read.

Every tiny part of nature being reborn right now. The buds, the blooms, the green shoots that we are holding our breath to find out what they are.

Hands held.

Trees scaled.

Picnics with grandmother’s china on the floor.

Crafts made out of the recycling bin.

Yoga with a neighbor across the street.

Breathless game nights.

A good book and a worn spot on the couch.

A brisk walk.

Countless meals using the cans from the back of the pantry.

Grocery bags by the front door of someone who needs them.

Laughter.

Togetherness.

Resilience.

Because jobs will still be lost, people will still get sick, mental health will still falter but choosing to see and share joy can be the difference in survival.

So break out the camera. Post away the moments you hold dear. Stitch them together like victory flags.

***I am planning a project with your photos of beauty in this time of turmoil. Please email to Helenjgeorge@gmail.com so I can include them!

the sacred birth of delilah ember | amanda's story

Six years ago, I had a new baby girl myself and attended the birth of a baby boy. It was a long labor and it bonded me to Amanda and Kurt as I watched them become parents. Fast forward a few years and I attended the birth of their daughter one special Christmas morning. This third baby came one cold December night. Amanda is the most prepared human I have ever met. She had planned and prepped everything for this birth. It was her first birth at the WNC Birth Center and she was dreaming of a peaceful water birth. But if you’re in the birth field you know, no one can plan for birth…

Amanda show up that night…done. She had been having prodromal labor for weeks, she was throwing up all the time and she just wanted her baby earthside. After being checked she wasn’t quite to a place to be admitted. The midwives were so kind and encouraging and told her to stay two hours to see how things progressed.

It was dark. It was so dark and peaceful in that room as we encouraged Amanda to rest and let her body do its thing. Music filled the room as she softly moaned through the waves. Then she couldn’t sit still. All the while I’m thinking she’s going to have to go home and this might not be it.

Then as her love supported her (literally) she started making sounds that confirmed for me that she wasn’t going anywhere. She got in the shower for relief and right before her two hours was up her water burst.

I thought we had time to fill up the tub, to turn up the lights a bit…but baby was coming.

When she found out the tub couldn’t be filled in time there was a moment where she yelled up into the sky “NOOOOOOOOO”. And then she focused and a few short pushes brought this precious one forth. Not one of her carefully labeled bags had even made it inside.

Immediately. Immediately the veil of weariness lifted and Amanda was so full of love and light. She ate and it stayed down. I just watched her breastfeeding, smiling and eating and bouncing around like a giddy school girl. It was a beautiful sight.

And when those siblings came to meet their baby sister….oh my heart. The tenderness, the joy, the snuggles with their beautiful mama. I felt like I was the fly on the way to a miracle.

Wamsley family, I am so honored (I think you know this) to have been there for the birth of all three of your babies. The way you support, Kurt, is inspiring. Amanda, you are a birth goddess, pure and simple. You’re strength is staggering. You’ll always have a special space in my heart

This blog post contains beautiful images of raw and real birth and nudity.