I wasn’t a girl who dreamed of being a mother. Growing up in Naples, Florida, my dreams were glamourous ones filled with a version of success that was summarized by giving (at galas - in sequins) and travel (to other tropical paradises – in bathing suits).
But I did become a mother. And now my vision of success is not only giving (which is foundational to our business) and travel (with and without the family in tow), but the desire to fill both my professional and familial roles well. There are seasons of struggle in each, but success for me is being both mother and artist.
What no one told me was that I wouldn’t be one mother. I would be six.
I would be a mother who grieves, for over 17 years, of the loss of her first son, Nathan. Integrated grief Brene Brown calls it, when you adapt and the grief has a place in your life.
I would be a mother who listens, to the cello my 15-year-old daughter Lorien plays, but more importantly, to her voice as she transitions into more complex friendships and responsibilities. We call them opportunities to connect in our home – small moments with big meaning.
I would be a mother who cheers, as my 14-year-old son Leighton discovered he could run, and be part of a team with both cross country and track. As an artist with zero sport talent, I am most proud he was willing to try a new adventure.
I would be a mother who laughs, because my twelve-year-old Graiden is constantly cracking a joke, or cracking himself up, and his laughter is simply contagious. His laughter can reach me even when depression starts to creep back in – and give me one more reason to fight to be present.
I would be a mother who sings, because Tiernan, my ten-year-old son, just hasn’t outgrown his need for a lullaby every night. I can be a voice when the quietest one needs one.
I would also be a mother who adopts, because my four-year-old Vivian came into my life at just 10 months old. Her beautiful caramel skin made me reevaluate not just the color of the baby dolls in our home (we now have MANY shades!), but the diversity of our friendships and those we look up to as role models. Vivian is the reason I am creating and competing with more diversity in my portfolio – hoping my small shifts will join many others for positive changes in perception and representation over time.
No one ever told me I would be six mothers. (I would never, ever have believed them.) But each of them needs me in different ways, at different times. I am thankful for the gift. And portraits like these are a way I honor their legacy in my life.
Whatever the complexities of your mother’s day feelings, hugs friends. It can be a hard day, too.
with love,
Kat
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