The Sacred Shape of Us

Thoughts on Womanhood, Motherhood & Becoming

There’s something unspoken between women — something ancient and soft, something wild and wordless.

We carry entire universes in our bodies. We expand, stretch, tear, bleed, love, ache, and rise again — not just as mothers, but as daughters, lovers, friends, artists, and healers. We multiply in a thousand ways, whether we birth children, dreams, or new versions of ourselves.

To be a woman is to shapeshift — mentally, emotionally, physically.To hold contradiction in both hands.To be modest and magnetic.Soft and sharp.Tender and feral.Raw, powerful, and still learning how to love yourself fully.

This is the part of womanhood I’m endlessly drawn to — the parts we don’t always name but deeply know.

I see it in my work as a doula, standing beside a woman as she labors through fire and meets herself in new skin.I see it through my lens — in the curve of a belly, the tear on a cheek, the laugh that escapes when the guard drops.I see it in myself, too — as I shift through my own seasons, reclaiming pieces I once abandoned, softening into the woman I’m still becoming.

It’s not about being perfect.It’s about being present.To the mess. The magic. The making of who we are.

Photography and birth work are not separate to me — they are the same calling.A sacred witnessing. A remembering. A holding of space.For you. For me. For all of us.

I often think about gathering the women I’ve worked with — all of you beautiful, complex souls — for a sacred meeting of the minds and hearts. Somewhere by the water. Somewhere barefoot and open. A beach full of stories, wisdom, laughter, tears, and that electric sense of being fully seen.

Because when we see ourselves through the eyes of other women, we remember just how divine we really are.Gods. Goddesses. Mirrors. Medicine.

To the women who have allowed me into their most intimate moments —To those still finding their voice, their rhythm, their joy —To the ones mothering others, themselves, or the girl they once were —I see you. I honor you. I thank you.

And to the woman I’m becoming —I’m proud of you, too.

May we never stop remembering ourselves.Again and again.Together.

S.