Before You Were Someone’s Mum

January has a habit of making us feel like we should be doing more.

Becoming new versions of ourselves. There’s an unspoken pressure to use this moment to reset, improve things, decide who we want to be by the end of the year.

But maybe, it just highlights that you’re already in the middle of something that’s changing you.

If you’re becoming a mum doesn’t happen all at once, even though we often talk about it like it does, its the kind of change that happens fast and at the same time slow!

The in-between is a real place

Before you were someone’s mum, you were already a whole person.

And pregnancy sits in that strange inbetween, where so much is shifting, you’re still you, but you’re not quite the same as you were. And you’re not yet the version of yourself you’ll become either.

That’s not a gap to fill. It’s a place worth noticing.

I think this is why I’ve always been so drawn to documenting life as it’s actually being lived, especially when it comes to mothers. We talk so naturally about children having different versions of themselves, the tiny newborn version, the toddler version, the school-aged version, all of these we’ll one day miss without even realising it’s gone. But we rarely extend that same awareness to ourselves.

And yet, motherhood creates just as many versions of a woman.

Sometimes that shows up in really ordinary ways. You might catch yourself missing a version of life that hasn’t even gone yet, while still feeling excited for what’s coming. You might feel guilty for that, or confused by it, or not think much of it at all. Most women don’t talk about that part, but it’s incredibly common to feel unsure and apprehensive.

Pregnancy reshapes more than your body

Pregnancy has a way of quietly reshaping you. Not just physically but emotionally too. You can feel deeply connected one moment and completely overwhelmed the next, it really is a rollercoaster. Some days you feel strong and grounded whilst the next you feel unsure and exhausted.

And all of this can exist at once, even when life on the outside looks much the same.

The beginnings we remember are often quiet

We talk a lot about new beginnings at this time of year, but we tend to imagine them as confident, decisive moments, as if you’ve crossed a clear line from one version of yourself into another, just as December ticks over into January.

In reality, the beginnings that matter most rarely feel like that.

They show up in ordinary moments. A hand resting on your bump without thinking about it. Catching your reflection and pausing for a second longer than usual. Realising that although your days still follow a familiar rhythm, something underneath has shifted.

This part of pregnancy often goes unnoticed and it’s usually undocumented too, yet we could argue its the most precious stage of it all.

Why these photographs matter

Maternity photography is often seen as something decorative, a vanity project to some. But its truly a way of marking this bump, capturing your glow and creating something beautiful to look back on.

For me it solidifies that this version of themselves existed.

Once the baby arrives, everything moves quickly. Trust me. Your attention shifts outward. Your days become fuller, noisier, more demanding. Your body changes, again. In the middle of all that, it’s surprisingly easy to forget what it felt like to be here, standing on the edge of change, before your arms were full.

That’s why these photographs matter.

They remind you that you didn’t just become a mother overnight. You became her gradually, without ceremony, in moments that felt small at the time but were shaping you all the same.

Holding space for this chapter

This isn’t about performing pregnancy or pretending it feels magical every day, I know all too well how tough it can feel. It’s about acknowledging that this chapter exists, whether it feels beautiful, complicated, emotional or all three at once. It’s about giving yourself permission to be seen in this inbetween, rather than rushing through it on the way to what comes next.

When I photograph maternity, that’s what I’m really holding space for. We slow things down. We leave room for movement, for stillness, for thought. There’s no expectation to feel a certain way or look a certain way. Just an acknowledgment that this moment matters, even if you don’t fully understand why yet, even if you don’t feel the best version of yourself right now, being where you are now deserves to be celebrated because in a few months time you’ll appreciate your body and you’ll look back and realise how much was happening beneath the surface. How much you were already becoming, without trying to.

Before you were someone’s mum, you were standing at the beginning of a change that would shape you forever. And that version of you deserves to be remembered too.