Mom Behind the Camera

 

I don't have many photos with my daughter.

At least, not as many as I thought I did.

If you opened my camera roll right now, you'd find thousands of pictures of Ariella. Pictures of her smiling, playing, exploring, and growing faster than I can keep up with.

What you wouldn't find nearly as often is me.

I never noticed it at first.

I was too busy making sure I captured everything.

The funny faces.
The milestones.
The ordinary afternoons that somehow felt special.

I wanted to remember it all.

But somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was part of those memories too.

The other day, I came across a photo of Ariella and me together.

Nothing fancy.

No matching outfits.
No special occasion.

Just the two of us existing in a moment that would have otherwise been forgotten.

And for some reason, that photo stopped me in my tracks.

Not because I looked particularly good.

Actually, if I'm being honest, my first instinct was to notice all the things I didn't like about it.

But then I looked again.

And what I saw wasn't a tired mom.

I saw a little girl looking completely content because she was with someone she loved.

I saw a moment I would have missed if I hadn't thought to take the picture.

It made me realize how often mothers disappear from their own stories.

Not in real life.

Just in the photos.

We're the ones crouching down to get the angle.
We're the ones saying, "One more picture."
We're the ones making sure everyone else is included.

Meanwhile, years pass, and there are fewer reminders that we were there too.

I don't want that anymore.

Not because I need evidence for myself.

I know I was there.

I was there for the bedtime stories.
The early mornings.
The endless snacks.
The cuddles.
The tantrums.
The laughter.

But one day, Ariella won't remember every detail.

The photos will help tell the story.

And I want her to see me in it.

Not the perfect version of me.

Not the version that waited until she lost weight, had better hair, or felt more confident.

Just me.

Her mom.

The woman who loved her through every season.

So this is my reminder to take the picture.

Even when I don't feel camera-ready.

Even when I'd rather be the one holding the phone.

Because these days won't last forever.

And someday, I think I'll be grateful for every photo that proves I was there—not watching life happen from behind the camera, but living it right beside her.