What Jenna Gave Me

Going to Jenna's studio was only our second time leaving the house as new parents. We were still figuring out how to do anything with a newborn—like, literally how to walk out the door with all the stuff and the car seat and everything. I had so many negative thoughts circling in my head. I own a nanny agency and I still felt like I knew nothing about how to be a caretaker to a little one- much less a little one's mama.

I was a mess. Hormonal, exhausted, crying at random things... Still figuring out breastfeeding. My body felt completely foreign to me. I was so uncomfortable in my own skin.

And I was hot. So hot. Everything about postpartum life is hot. Still wearing pads (but trying to pretend I wasn't). Nothing fit—not my maternity clothes, not my regular clothes (I know, I know—why did I even try those on? But I did, and then I spiraled). The absolute last thing I wanted to do was stand in front of a camera.

I was still timing my pain meds, getting winded just carrying Nash around, and every time he cried my whole nervous system would just light up. Like full panic mode. I almost cancelled the photoshoot with Jenna 100x in the 20 minutes leading up to getting in the car.

But when we walked into Jenna's studio, something changed.

She just... welcomed us. Her space felt calm and bright and quiet. No pressure, no weird energy, no feeling like we needed to perform or be anything other than what we were—which was exhausted and overwhelmed and so in love with this tiny person.

I remember what she was wearing. Jeans and a white t-shirt. A ribbon in her ponytail, which was a little off-center. She was barefoot, moving around the studio so gently. Everything about her felt easy, graceful, and grounded. She smelled like shampoo—I remember noticing that and feeling weirdly comforted by it. Scents were still doing a number on me but the soft smell of her shampoo felt really soothing.

And she was focused on me. Not my mom, not my dad, not even Adrian or Nash. Me.

I still cry thinking about that. Because I was the one falling apart and trying to hold it together at the same time, and she saw that. She made me feel like I mattered.

My whole family came with us—both sets of grandparents in pastels, so excited to get a photo with their new grandson. And Jenna just rolled with it. Made it seem totally normal that I'd shown up with an entourage.

She knew how to handle babies. Like, really knew. She sang to Nash, soothed him, helped me get dressed without making it weird. She kept checking if we needed water. And she told me I looked beautiful—and I actually believed her. Not because I felt beautiful, but because she said it like it was just a fact.

She saw the mom in me when I couldn't see her yet.

There's this one moment I keep coming back to. I had just pulled my dress down to nurse Nash, and I was so awkward about it. Still fumbling with the latch, still feeling like I was doing everything wrong. Breastfeeding didn't feel natural yet. I definitely didn't want it photographed.

But Jenna looked at me and said, "You're doing such a magical job."

I was like... what? I felt sweaty and clueless and kind of mortified.

Then she said, "You look like such a pro."

And she meant it. Somehow I believed her.

The truth is, I was carrying around this weird shame. Like—I'm supposed to be a childcare expert professionally, and here I am not knowing what I'm doing with my own baby. Jenna just lifted that off me. Made me feel like it was okay to not know. Like I was exactly where I needed to be.

She asked me questions that only another mom would think to ask. Real questions. And I felt seen—not just as someone to photograph, but as another mom. She wasn't just the photographer in the room. She was the other mother.

I knew we probably wouldn't do this again, so I really needed her to get it right. And I trusted her. Not just because she's talented—though she is—but because of her whole energy. The way she held Nash, the way she held space for me becoming a mom, which is its own thing entirely.

At some point she noticed Nash's toes were cold and turned up the heat without saying anything. He's not an easy sleeper, and I walked in thinking great, I'll be the first mom whose baby screams through the whole newborn session. But she had him swaddled and asleep within minutes. I almost cried. Actually, I probably did cry.

Oh, and I'd already rescheduled once. Then I was late. She didn't care. "No problem, mama." And she had Starbucks waiting for me—my exact order, which someone must have given her, and it was still cold and perfect.

Before we started, she told me her home had been totally germ-free and asked if I wanted her to wear a mask. Such a small thing, but with a three-week-old, that anxiety is real. She was thinking about me, not just Nash.

The photos are gorgeous. They really are. Soft and full of light and love. But honestly, what I'll remember most is how she made me feel during that session.

She gave me coffee and reassurance when I couldn't give myself either.

Jenna didn't just take pictures of a milestone. She made it feel important. She helped me pause and actually be present instead of just white-knuckling my way through. That's not something you can buy. That's just a gift.

I'll keep these photos forever. And I'll remember what it felt like to take them.

If you're a new parent or about to be one—even if you feel like a disaster (I promise you, I did)—this is worth doing. Jenna has this way of reminding you that you're already enough for your baby. And honestly, you need to hear that in those early weeks. You don't remember much from that time. Document what you can. One day you'll be so grateful you did.

I am late publishing this blog because motherhood continues to overwhelm me. I'm grateful I wrote it all down while it was still fresh, because those first postpartum weeks are such a blur. Jenna was one of the bright spots in mine. Maybe she can be one in yours too.

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