I’d like to pitch something to you.

This idea started in 2020.

Before I tell you about the idea, this is Arlo and Hil.

I’m Hil. I’m the one with the pump n’ Pringles (I may consider copyriting this).

Arlo is the one in the tanning bed. He thought he’d show up early to the party. Ten weeks early.

Person in hospital room using a breast pump, taking a mirror selfie.
Newborn baby in incubator, medical care, hospital, grayscale photo

309 NICU South

I never thought I’d be a NICU parent. I was healthy. My pregnancy was going as well as it could as I chased a toddler. Going early never crossed my mind, especially after I’d gone nine days late with my first.

I’ll skip the scary bits and jump to the good part. Arlo was born via emergency cesarean at St. Martha’s Regional in Antigonish. This 30-weeker came out breathing unassisted and had a better APGAR score than his overcooked big brother. He weighed 1425 grams. My mum would later send me a photo from home of a small scale with some cheese and grapes from a charcuterie board that weighed as much as he did. He was airlifted shortly after his birth. I was transported to the IWK to join him days later.

Arlo checked out of 309 NICU South after a 33-night stay. During that time, we met many families who had longer stays ahead of them and much sicker babies. The days strung together

Arlo was discharged just in time for us to go home for Christmas. Nearly three years later, he still hasn’t gotten the memo that he was a premie.

Baby in a high chair with messy food on the tray, assisted by an adult; using a purple sippy cup.
A man and a child sitting at a table with the child feeding the man with a fork. The table has a plate with food and a napkin on it. The scene is black and white in a home setting with framed pictures on the wall.
Dimly lit hallway with a rumpled sheet on the floor and an open door leading to a warmly lit room with a clock on the wall.
Two children playing on a couch by a large window, surrounded by scattered clothes and pillows, in a black and white photo.
Close-up of a couple holding a child wrapped in a knit blanket, standing by a lake.
Black and white photo of a smiling mother and child touching noses, close-up.
Children jumping into water with inflatable float, wearing swimwear and life jackets, surrounded by trees and blue sky.
Child with face inside a plastic container, hands on the container, and a sticker label visible.
A child in a bear-themed pajama stands in front of a mirror wearing a toy firefighter helmet and colorful sunglasses, in a room with warm lighting.
Black and white photo of a smiling child lying under a blanket on a bed, with a small toy nearby.
Two children drawing with colored chalk on pavement, creating a large monster-like figure.
Black and white image of a person sitting on a couch in a cozy room with wooden walls, holding a baby. A table with a lamp and books is beside the couch.
Black and white photo of a woman reading a book in an armchair, with a sleeping baby on her lap and another child eating a snack nearby.
Child in colorful rubber boots splashing in a muddy puddle
Black and white photo of a family on a bed, featuring two toddlers lying down and parents sitting nearby, engaged with the children.

Enough about Arlo and more about the importance of documenting families.

If you do a quick Google search of ‘family photography’ the results largely depict seemingly happy families in well-coordinated “we’ve got our shit together” outfits with picturesque backdrops.

While these photos are beautiful, they do little to tell the story of a particular chapter in their life.

I mean, think about it: how often did you wear coordinated outfits as a family let alone look like your shit was together? Far less often than the hours we spent playing in dirt piles with skinned knees from bikes, our fridge stacked with handmade art and reminders for birthday parties smeared with fingerprints on any free space.

Not long after my kids entered my life, I considered how I wanted to document our family more consciously. I gravitated to capturing our mundane days nursing on the couch with a pile of laundry next to us. I photographed the sink baths I gave my boys, knowing they wouldn’t fit in a few months. I did my best to photograph all that I could and started a series on my Instagram dubbed '“mundane mumdays” that encouraged me to leave my camera around the house every Monday and capture our every day. I don’t think I appreciated those photos enough in the moment. Now some of those photos are going on three years old and as they age, they gain importance.

Black and white photo of a baby drinking from a bottle surrounded by toys and clothes on a carpet.