The First Fourteen Days

There is a particular alchemy to those first two weeks of life, a liminal space where the ethereal and the earthly briefly touch. As I cradle these impossibly small humans in my studio, I’m always struck by how they seem to exist just slightly beyond our world, still half-dreaming of whatever came before. This is why, darling readers, those fourteen days are nothing less than sacred in my craft.

On the Science of Fleeting Perfection

The magic lies in the physiology: their deep, weightless sleep that allows for those curled, womb-like poses; their skin, so new it hasn’t yet learned to flake; their reflexes still soft around the edges. By the third week, the world begins to claim them more insistently—colic stirs, limbs stretch, and that otherworldly pliancy starts to fade. It’s why my diary always books out months in advance—this window won’t wait.

The Details You’ll Want to Remember (But Might Miss)

What I capture isn’t just a portrait, it’s a sensory time capsule. The way their starfish hands grip your finger with preternatural strength. The peach-fuzz shoulders that still smell of vernix. Those accidental, mysterious smiles that flicker like candlelight, far too purposeful to dismiss as mere gas. These are the details that, years later, will slip through your fingers like sand, leaving only the photographs as proof they ever existed at all.

For Discerning Parents: A Brief Primer

1. Book early — I reserve just four newborn slots per month to ensure each session unfolds without haste.
2. Embrace the mess — The most arresting images often come when we pause for nappy changes or unexpected feeds.
3. Trust the process — That ‘perfect’ shot usually arrives in the unscripted moment right after you think we’ve finished.