Rosie will be a spectacular mother. I’ve always felt that. Although it was heartbreaking to watch her wait for that role, through the adventures of IVF, which she faced with her husband with great humour and huge sorrow. They have their own story to tell about that and I can’t wait to read it. Usually I hate to know the ending of stories. But here’s a spoiler: this story ends beautifully, with an arrival and the beginning of another chapter, called “Family Life.”
A moment of full disclosure. I am personally attached to these portraits.
Not just because I took them, because there’s always a little bit of who I am left in the pictures I take. It’s more than that. Because I was desperate to do good work for Rosie, my good friend. She’s always been a supporter of my photography. She loves the images of mine that I love. She knows when I’ve done my best work.
Maybe, on the day of her session, we wandered a bit too long, looking for the perfect spot, the perfect light, the moment when I would do my best work. Because I was nervous. I was worried that I wouldn’t do proper justice to Rosie and her wonderful bump. I was dragging my heels, literally, through the pinecones and the twigs.
And Rosie laughed at me. Because she knew what I was up to.
Here’s the lesson. You already know it. I did.
The situation will never be perfect. The moment never arrives, knocking politely on the door, asking if you’re ready. You just have to do. And act. And get started.
We got started.
I love this photograph. There’s a memory attached to it that makes me smile. It involves a slightly fraught photographer, perspiring lightly, searching for lost glasses in the heather. It also involves a heavily pregnant woman, heaving herself up, avoiding the spiders and crawlies, whilst also casting her eye about for said glasses. We were both laughing at ourselves, at how ridiculous we must have appeared. Our friendship is a history of slight silliness in social situations. And here we now were, feeling like we were playing at being grown ups, a professional photographer and a pregnant lady, scrabbling around in the hopeless pursuit of finding my lost glasses.
Rosie found them.
And then the sun starts to set. The moments have been arriving without me recognising them. But now I see them very clearly, in that early evening light.
And the sun set, but we kept on shooting. I’m so happy that we did. Because how often do you get pink skies and pregnant silhouettes?
Spending this time, creating these images, it is the best of what I do.