#StayHome2020

When your photographer is masked up, your quarantine protocol on point, and your stretchy pants temporarily swapped out for something more stylish. 2020 is a time of upheaval and uncertainty, to be sure. Photos are one way we remember the things that don’t change: The love we have for one another and our desire to document all that remains good in our lives.

Here’s a sampling of the families I’ve worked with during #stayhome2020. Be safe everybody - I’m rooting for you.

To book one of my THREE remaining family sessions in 2020 - choose your date! It would be my honor to help tell your story.

P.S. BLACK LIVES MATTER and VOTE like lives depend on it - because they do.

Elijah's Birth Story | C-Section Birth at Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland, WA | Seattle Birth Photographer

When I arrived at the hospital, Allison and Joshua were working hard through contractions with the support of their doula, Cori. I remembered the first time we met in a coffee shop in Kirkland and their joy and anticipation in welcoming their son was just palpable. They also KNEW they wanted to document this important transition for their family - something a birth photographer always loves to hear.

Throughout Allison’s labor there were moments of peace, lots of laughter, some fear and anxiety, incredible support and a difficult change of plans. Birth is a RIDE. It takes us to surprising places in ways that are both empowering and sometimes terrifying. It’s at this intersection of life and love and pain and joy that the human experience lays itself bare. This is what makes birth work so sacred. I’m privileged each and every time a family invites me to walk this path with them - to document the journey for their remembrance and reflection.

Absolutely LOVE the details in the birth room - those little things that illustrate your story. Elements of faith and belief, the kindest batch of cookies to say thank you, the way we pass the time.

When your doula makes you a flower crown because she recognizes that you are a queen. Then the royal massage can begin! It matters that you feel cherished when giving birth. It matters that you have access to compassionate and healing touch if that’s what soothes you. Birth is intense - and you deserve to feel held, supported and beautiful the entire way through.

Did you know that even with an epidural, you can continue to labor and push in an upright position? This gives your body and your baby a chance to work with gravity in making the descent into the birth canal. Love all the nurses and doulas who do much of the physical work required to help families labor in positions that feel right for them.

As pushing continued with no sign of baby’s descent, it was time to make the difficult decision to move forward with a surgical birth. This was something Allison and Joshua had really not wanted for their son’s birth. It was a scary turn of events for them. I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you are given the time and space to mourn what you need to mourn about your birth. It is valid to feel any range of feelings when your birth goes in a direction you did not anticipate or want. It’s a complicated experience. You can feel grateful that you and your baby are safe AND feel really scared. You can love your baby AND feel sad or angry about the way their birth went. It’s all OK.

Mourning and grieving take time, and so does healing. My hope for every family is that they have people in their lives who can sit with them in the difficult feelings. Who can be patient and compassionate. Who can listen without judgement. However you feel about your birth is totally valid. It’s your experience to process in whatever way works best for you.

If you need help or more support (no matter how long it’s been since you gave birth) I am always happy to help you find someone who can assist you.

I saw her laying on the operation table, arms outstretched. I thought about the cross she wears around her neck. I thought about sacrifice - about giving your own body so that another may live. This mama’s story is one of strength and redemption. All that she went through to bring her sweet baby earthside - what a beautiful testament to a mother’s love.

Welcome home Elijah! We’re all so glad you’re here. Mama, Papa and doting grandparents too. May you always know love and safety and how very much you are cherished.

Place of Delivery : Evergreen Health Maternity Center

Doula Care by : Cori Hartunian

Connect with Allison on IG : @beingwifeandmama

I still have availability for births in King and Snohomish Counties for March and April 2020 and beyond. Reach out today to start the conversation about having your birth documented.

"You don't look depressed" | A Summertime Confession

I wasn’t sure if she meant it as a challenge, insisting I prove to her that I was indeed suffering mentally.

Or maybe a compliment, to cheer me up that at least I didn’t LOOK as awful as I felt.

With her pronouncement I shrunk further into my isolation.

It hadn’t been difficult to tell her a couple weeks earlier that I was having a hellish summer and that my mental state was fragile, taxed, teetering. I’ve been fairly open about my mental health struggles after the suicide of my mother and have spent a great deal of time trying to #smashthestigma. She too had confided in me that she suffered from Postpartum Depression after the birth of her first child. So we had that in common.

What HAD been difficult was to invite her over, to allow myself to be vulnerable, to admit out loud that I wasn’t sure I could handle being alone with my children for one more day. That not only was depression something I had experienced in the past, but something that was currently creeping in, growing bigger and harder to manage.

I suppose when she arrived, this new friend of mine thought she would find me lying in bed, dishes piled high - the very picture of Depression. That must be where her comment came from: She didn’t see the outward signals of what we’ve all been told this looks like.

Here’s what I know about me: I know that I carry a significant genetic load for this particular illness. I know I experienced trauma as a child, teenager and young adult - and that those events influenced my brain development. I also know that in order to survive - I learned how to keep going.

How to go to school and make straight A’s when your parents were up all night screaming and throwing things. How to be choir president and Key Club VP and volunteer math tutor even though your mother had kicked you out and called you a bitch. I knew how to ace tests after news of another suicide attempt, another hospitalization, another stint in jail. When things felt like they were falling apart, I learned how to keep it all together.

I learned to overachieve in the face of dysfunction. To be obsessed with order to curb the chaos.

I learned to disconnect from the fear and sadness and anger that had no where to be expressed.

I learned to seek praise where I could get it - and to continually perform to reassure myself that I was worth something.

Until I just couldn’t anymore.

This is the tricky truth about people like me: the highly functioning depressed person. Because it is so terrifying to feel negative emotions, we push ourselves harder and harder to perform. Instead of noticing when this illness is flaring up and giving myself rest, asking for resources or help, I react instinctively to push harder, do more - prove to myself that I won’t end up like my mother. Prove to others that I’m worthy of love.

You see where this is going, right? Exhaustion. Depletion. Crisis.

But right up to that moment, it looks like a woman who has it all together. A successful business owner, dedicated volunteer, involved mother.

The photo above was taken in July - on my way to book club. Looking good, but feeling dead inside. I can write about it now because I’ve slowly climbed back out of that hole. With help from my husband, with a slow down in my schedule, with increased medication, with rest.

I’m trying to unlearn all those lessons that helped me survive my childhood but are no longer serving me.

Learning to listen to my inner voice - to what I need and even what I want.

Learning to respect my limits - not berate myself for having them.

Learning to give myself love, mercy, grace.

It’s HARD work to undo years of conditioning. It’s hard to sit with grief, with anger, with fear and to hear them out. It’s actually very hard to be kind to myself. But with practice these are skills I am developing. I hope that you are too.

Whatever you are facing, I wish you compassion and peace and courage. You deserve it, and so do I.

-Whitney

P.S. If you or someone you know is struggling to get through the day, please reach out to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline. Your life matters, and you are never alone.

P.P.S. Check out the work of my incredible friend, Mariangela. Faces of Fortitude is a beautiful photography project dedicated to creating a safe space to discuss mental illness, resilience, and to honor life and loss.