The Photograph I Always Want to Take

There is one photograph I always want to take during a newborn session.

Not the baby curled and sleeping.
Not the mother gazing down.

The hands.

A father's hands holding a newborn — enormous and careful and completely certain — while everything else in the room is uncertain.

Those first days at home with a new baby are unlike anything else.

A new mother who doesn't yet know what to do with this small person she has been handed.
Who is exhausted in a way she has never been exhausted before.
Who hasn't slept.
Who worries.
Who wants, more than anything, to be the best mother she can possibly be.

Whose body hurts.
Whose whole self is rearranging.
Who sometimes feels completely alone in the universe — even in a room full of people.

Whose own parents may be far away.
Who has only just stopped being someone's child herself — and is now responsible for another life entirely.

In those moments, there is nothing more important than the person beside her.

Not always words.
Sometimes just a look.
A steadiness.
An energy that says: I've got you. We've got this.

That is enough to move mountains.

And when I photograph a father holding his newborn — those huge hands, that quiet certainty — I am photographing that too.

The thing that doesn't always get said.
But that makes everything possible.

If you're expecting a baby and thinking about a newborn session in London or Bromley, I'd love to hear from you. See full collections at investment or get in touch.

Five Things I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before My Newborn Session

After eighteen years and more than a thousand newborn sessions across London and Bromley, I've noticed a pattern.

There are things families wish they'd known beforehand. Not big things. Small things. The kind of things nobody thinks to mention — until you're in the middle of the session and suddenly wish someone had.

So here they are.

1. You don't need to have the house ready

I mean this.

I have never once walked into a family home and thought: this is too messy.

I have walked into homes with laundry on every surface, dishes in the sink, a dog bed in the middle of the room, and baby paraphernalia covering the sofa.

And I have taken beautiful photographs in every single one of them.

Newborn days are not tidy days. Nobody expects them to be. Least of all me.

The only thing I need is a room with a window and a little warmth. Everything else I bring with me.

Please don't spend the morning before I arrive cleaning. Spend it resting, or feeding the baby, or drinking a cup of tea while it's still hot.

That is a much better use of your time.

2. The session will take longer than you think — and that's fine

Two to three hours is a guide, not a promise.

Some sessions take longer. A baby who needs two long feeds and a full settle before they'll sleep deeply — that session might be four hours.

I have never once rushed a family to finish on time.

The session ends when it ends. When your baby has been photographed. When the family portraits are done. When everything feels complete.

There is no clock on the wall that I'm watching. There is only your baby, and the light, and however long it takes.

3. You are allowed to stay in your pyjamas

For the first half of the session at least.

While I'm working with your baby — wrapping, posing, settling — you don't need to be dressed, made up, or ready for anything.

Rest. Feed if you need to. Sit nearby in whatever you slept in.

When it's time for the family portraits — usually toward the end — that's when you change into whatever you've chosen to wear. Not before.

Many of my favourite family images have been taken with a mother in a soft dressing gown, hair undone, holding her baby the way she holds them every morning.

Those are often the realest photographs of all.

4. Your baby does not need to perform

Babies cry during newborn sessions. They need feeding. They need winding. They need a twenty-minute cuddle before they'll settle.

This is not a problem. This is Tuesday.

A baby who is unsettled is not ruining your session. They are being a newborn.

I have never left a family without photographs because the baby was difficult. I have simply waited, and settled, and tried again — as many times as it takes.

Your only job is to be there. Everything else is mine.

5. You will forget this faster than you think

This is the one I wish someone had told me before my own children were born.

Those first weeks feel endless when you're in them. The exhaustion. The feeds. The strange slow days and long nights.

And then one morning — months later, sometimes years — you look at a photograph from that time and you can barely remember what they looked like so small.

The weight of them. The smell of them. The way they fit into the crook of your arm.

It goes.

Not all at once. Quietly, gradually, the way all the best things do.

That is why these photographs matter. Not because life looked perfect. But because one day you will want to remember exactly how it felt.

And the photographs will be there.

Thinking about a newborn session in London or Bromley? You can see full collections on my investment page or simply get in touch.

What to Expect from a Newborn Session in Bromley

If you've never had a newborn session before, it's completely normal to wonder what actually happens. Here's an honest account of what a session with me looks like — from the moment I arrive at your door to the sneak peek you'll receive that evening.

When to book

Most families book during their second trimester, and we hold a flexible date around five to ten days after your due date. That window — the first one to six weeks — is when babies sleep most deeply and curl most naturally. Earlier is gentler, but every baby finds their own timing. I've photographed many babies up to six weeks old, and the images are always beautiful.

The morning of your session

You don't need to prepare much. A room with a window — south or east-facing is ideal, but any daylight will do. A slightly warmer room than usual, because your baby will be undressed for some of the session. A feed about thirty minutes before I arrive, if the rhythm allows.

That's genuinely it.

I arrive quietly, usually with everything loaded into two bags. I find the right corner of the room, set up while you settle the baby, and we begin when your baby is ready — not when the clock says so.

What I bring

Everything. After eighteen years of newborn sessions across Bromley and South East London, my entire studio comes with me.

Organic wraps in cream, oatmeal, sand, and soft grey. Knitted gowns, bonnets, and rompers. Delicate headbands. Wooden bowls, baskets, and neutral backdrops. A heated beanbag for posing. Studio-quality lighting for darker days. Warm hands and hand sanitiser.

You don't need to buy props, outfits, or anything at all for your baby. If there's something meaningful you'd like to include — a blanket from a grandmother, a tiny outfit that belonged to an older sibling — bring it. Those pieces often become the most treasured images of the day.

The session itself

A newborn session usually takes two to three hours. We work entirely at your baby's pace. If they need to feed, we feed. If they need a long settle, we wait. If a pose isn't working, we move on. There's no timeline and no pressure.

Most of the session is quiet. You're welcome to stay close, make tea, or rest in another room — whichever feels right. Parents are never far from the baby. Every pose that looks unsupported in the final image is fully supported during the session, often by a parent's hand just outside the frame.

Toward the end, I photograph the family together — you holding your baby, siblings if they're there, both parents in the frame. These are often the images families return to most.

After the session

That same evening, or the next morning, I'll send a sneak peek — one or two of my favourite images while the feeling of the day is still fresh.

Your full private gallery arrives within one week. It includes colour and black and white edits, a print release for personal use, and a password-protected link you can share with family.

A note on safety

I am trained in newborn safety and fully insured. Every session I photograph in Bromley and across South East London is treated with the same care I gave my own five children in those early weeks. Your baby is never not held.

Thinking about booking a newborn session in Bromley or South East London? I'd love to hear from you. You can see full pricing and collections on my investment page, or simply get in touch.

Why I Photograph Families At Home Instead of Studios

People sometimes ask me why I photograph so many families at home instead of in a studio.

The honest answer is:
because real life happens at home.

Not in front of a perfect paper backdrop.
Not under giant softboxes.
Not in matching beige outfits carefully prepared for Instagram.

At home, children behave differently.

Parents behave differently too.

A toddler hides behind the kitchen chair.
Someone jumps on the bed.
The baby needs feeding halfway through.
The dog walks into the room.
There are cups of tea somewhere in the background.
Laundry on a chair.
Tiny socks on the floor.
Afternoon light moving slowly across the walls.

And somehow all of that feels far more real to me than perfection ever could.

Maybe this comes from having five children myself.

I know what family life actually looks like.

I know that most mothers arrive at newborn sessions already exhausted before the session even starts.
I know that packing a newborn, spare clothes, bottles, muslins, snacks, nappies, and trying to leave the house on time can feel like preparing for an international expedition.

Sometimes mothers apologise to me for the “mess” at home.

And honestly?
I almost never notice it.

Because years later, nobody looks at family photographs and thinks:
“What a shame about that pile of laundry.”

What people actually see is:
the tiny expression their child used to make,
the way the light looked in their first home,
the chair where they fed the baby every night,
the feeling of that season of life.

That is what disappears.

And maybe that is what family photography is really trying to save.

Not perfection.

Just evidence that this little life happened.

That everybody was here.

That this was once your ordinary day — before it quietly became a memory.

I Once Said I Wanted Five Children

Sometimes I think it’s a very strange question — and at the same time, a very important one.

Why do we actually want children?

When I was little, my mum once asked me:

“Kate, how many children do you want?”

And I answered:
“Five.”

To this day I have no idea where that number came from. Nobody in my family had lots of children. Maybe some distant great-grandmothers, but that’s about it.

Then I had two children and honestly thought:
“That’s it. Absolutely enough. No more.”

A few years later, I suddenly wanted another baby.

And instead, I had triplets.

I still remember my mum laughing:
“Well… dreams do come true. You wanted five.”

When I photograph newborns now, parents often imagine that newborn photographers must have beautifully documented every second of their own children’s lives.

Perfect little albums.
Perfect sleepy portraits.
Perfect memories carefully preserved from day one.

But my own children sometimes ask me:
“Mum, you’re literally a photographer… why do we barely have any photos from when we were babies?”

And I always answer honestly:
Because I was exhausted.

Completely exhausted.

When you have small children — especially several at once — sometimes you are not creating memories.
Sometimes you are simply surviving between feeds, laundry, tiny socks, sleepless nights, and cold coffee you forgot to drink.

And honestly, that is one of the reasons I love in-home newborn sessions so much.

Because you do not need to pack bags.
You do not need to drive anywhere.
You do not need to pretend you are functioning perfectly.

Sometimes parents simply hand me the baby… and go back to sleep.

I’m not joking.

And I completely understand it.

Maybe that’s also why these photographs matter so much.

Not because life looks perfect in them.

But because one day the whole period starts feeling almost unreal.
Like some strange beautiful fog you lived through half-asleep.

Tiny fingers.
Milk bottles at 3am.
Warm sleepy weight on your chest.
The sound of breathing next to you in the dark.

You are unbelievably tired.
And somehow, at the very same time, deeply happy.

So why do we have children?

Maybe to live a bigger life than the one we could live alone.

Maybe to watch another human becoming themselves right in front of you.

Maybe to heal things quietly without even noticing.

Maybe to experience a kind of love that completely rearranges your understanding of time, fear, exhaustion, and joy.

Or maybe simply to lie there one day, surrounded by your children, and suddenly realise:

this is life.