Oh man. This family’s first year session was gifted to them from another amazing client of mine, and I am so, so happy to know both families now. The love for this little one and the soul poured into this family’s life is just a beautiful thing. This is the part of their newborn session where I teared up listening to him sing “Blackbird” to his girls. If you’d like to see more from their newborn session, you can check it out here. Not only did they have their first baby this year – they also moved to a new city (days after baby was born), changed jobs, and started medical school. THAT, my friends, is one crazy year. But you’d never know it spending time with them. No matter how tired or stressed they were, there was always only love in the room. Her sitting up session was at the new house. Her one year session was at the Park of Roses… She really liked the pavement:) Making this little one’s album was a complete joy. And in the back of it lies this poem by her daddy.
It was a list of lies that I would tell my daughter
Es war einmal, it was easy, quite, to love—
Gestating in two hundred years of German fairytales,
We believed to alchemize and to anatomize were, in this case,
The same—that she would have two eyes to see
In three dimensions, but also to see one thing in several ways:
Her hardening hipbones both ivory ilia,
And the petrified, white forewings of a butterfly;
Or else, her heart a wingless hummingbird—little one, that is why
The ribs are called a cage.
It’s true: there was a clear beginning, and an end,
And sometime in between she sprouted ears, and started listening—
I confessed she, like her Mother, shared her blood
With at least one Massachusetts witch; most likely
It was the one accused of eating crows.
I could teach her little but how to be afraid of shadows,
And to untangle rainbows from spilled gasoline.
And so I told her that the sirens outside were a banshee’s cry,
And spoke above the kettle, whistling until it boiled dry,
And above rats scuttling between the walls.
And each word she heard would be a hard-learned lesson;
That little girls who prick their fingers
On the outer whorls of wildflowers;
Who learn to braid wet goldenrod
Into wreathes, or weave a quilt of silver cobwebs,
Will be the first to solve the ugly algebra of ever after,
The first to crack their cradles’ bars for tinder,
The first to bleed, and the last ones to forgive the lie.
My German’s rough, but we live happily and contentedly until the day we die
And, little one, I think that end is as good as any.
I love it. My life is better for knowing you three. Seriously. Thank you for letting me be a part of Morgan’s first year!
If you or someone you know would like more information on first year sessions, I would love to chat! Please let me know through my contact page. Thanks!