Isela Maria Photography

Life through my lens

It’s been quiet here lately because we’ve been busy having a baby. Our sweet baby girl was born on her due date, May 24. She is lovely, beautiful and sweet, and we are completely in love. 

It’s been quiet here lately because we’ve been busy having a baby. Our sweet baby girl was born on her due date, May 24. She is lovely, beautiful and sweet, and we are completely in love. 

When I was ten years old my mother died of breast cancer. She was never one to like the camera. She hated having her picture taken, even for family photographs. I’m not sure if it was humility or being shy but the result was few photographs left behind. There are so few I’ve memorized them. There is not one I haven’t seen and carefully studied through the last 20 years. They, along with three letters and the few possessions she left behind are my treasures. Aside from my wedding rings they are the only physical things on this earth I would weep over if ever lost or damaged. 
There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t wish there were more. More letters, more photographs. What I wouldn’t give to rummage through her journals, to have the chance to get to know her better. I would love to have a picture of her for every year of her short life, 38 is not a lot to ask. Her absence and lack of things left behind are the reasons I love photography. It is why an image holds so much power for me, because as the child of someone who has left this life I know what an image truly holds - life, love, memories, emotion. 
That is why my series of maternity pictures for both my children is near to my heart. When we got pregnant with Max it was after a couple of years of infertility. I was so overjoyed at his tiny new life and fearful we would lose him I wanted to do everything I could to document his presence in our lives.
During that time I also longed for photographs of my mother pregnant with my sister and me. That longing began this desire of mine to document our lives for our children. If God forbid we die before being able to tell them all things we want to, to share our overpowering love for them, I want them to have sheets and sheets of pictures and letters so that even though we’ve left this world they’ll still have pieces of us. So that’s why I do this slightly vain thing weekly. In case I lose her I still have these beautiful memories of how we grew together all these weeks, and in case she loses me she has sheets and sheets of love to rummage through. 
Above are the images looking down from week 16 to week 35 (there a couple of weeks missing). Below are my favorite self portraits from this project. I still have roughly four more weeks to this pregnancy but as things get increasingly busy around here I doubt I’ll have time to compile this post before she makes her entrance. 
20 weeks
25
27
28
30

31

33
34
35
36

When I was ten years old my mother died of breast cancer. She was never one to like the camera. She hated having her picture taken, even for family photographs. I’m not sure if it was humility or being shy but the result was few photographs left behind. There are so few I’ve memorized them. There is not one I haven’t seen and carefully studied through the last 20 years. They, along with three letters and the few possessions she left behind are my treasures. Aside from my wedding rings they are the only physical things on this earth I would weep over if ever lost or damaged. 

There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t wish there were more. More letters, more photographs. What I wouldn’t give to rummage through her journals, to have the chance to get to know her better. I would love to have a picture of her for every year of her short life, 38 is not a lot to ask. Her absence and lack of things left behind are the reasons I love photography. It is why an image holds so much power for me, because as the child of someone who has left this life I know what an image truly holds - life, love, memories, emotion. 

That is why my series of maternity pictures for both my children is near to my heart. When we got pregnant with Max it was after a couple of years of infertility. I was so overjoyed at his tiny new life and fearful we would lose him I wanted to do everything I could to document his presence in our lives.

During that time I also longed for photographs of my mother pregnant with my sister and me. That longing began this desire of mine to document our lives for our children. If God forbid we die before being able to tell them all things we want to, to share our overpowering love for them, I want them to have sheets and sheets of pictures and letters so that even though we’ve left this world they’ll still have pieces of us. So that’s why I do this slightly vain thing weekly. In case I lose her I still have these beautiful memories of how we grew together all these weeks, and in case she loses me she has sheets and sheets of love to rummage through. 

Above are the images looking down from week 16 to week 35 (there a couple of weeks missing). Below are my favorite self portraits from this project. I still have roughly four more weeks to this pregnancy but as things get increasingly busy around here I doubt I’ll have time to compile this post before she makes her entrance. 

20 weeks

25

27

28

30

31

33

34

35

36

When I was a girl my parents would grow the most beautiful flowers year round. Living in California our little garden always seemed to be thriving. It wasn’t until last spring I was able to grow a garden of my own. Spring came just weeks after we suffered a molar pregnancy and growing my garden was extremely healing for my soul. I’m not entirely sure if thats the only reason I fell so deeply in love with gardening but I did and I don’t think I’ll ever look back. There is something incredible about growing something with your own two hands.
My garden is nothing extraordinary but it brings me much joy as I see my plants thriving and blooming. This year I decided to capture my newest love in the way I know best. As my vegetables and flowers grow I’ll add new installments to the series. To start with here are my first blooms, white hyacinths.

When I was a girl my parents would grow the most beautiful flowers year round. Living in California our little garden always seemed to be thriving. It wasn’t until last spring I was able to grow a garden of my own. Spring came just weeks after we suffered a molar pregnancy and growing my garden was extremely healing for my soul. I’m not entirely sure if thats the only reason I fell so deeply in love with gardening but I did and I don’t think I’ll ever look back. There is something incredible about growing something with your own two hands.

My garden is nothing extraordinary but it brings me much joy as I see my plants thriving and blooming. This year I decided to capture my newest love in the way I know best. As my vegetables and flowers grow I’ll add new installments to the series. To start with here are my first blooms, white hyacinths.