
Some family sessions are about documenting what everyone looks like right now. As a St. Augustine Beach family photographer, I know other sessions hold something much bigger.
When Aimee asked me to photograph her and her two boys, this wasn’t simply an updated family portrait session. So much had changed since the last time they stood together in front of a camera. She had survived breast cancer. Her family had changed. Her body had changed. Her perspective on life had changed.
What hadn’t changed was the love between her and her boys.
I love creating beautiful portraits, but I also want to photograph the parts of a family’s life that can’t really be posed. For Aimee, Dylan and Miles, that meant we started with portraits among the palms and along the beach and ended in the water—playing, laughing, splashing and doing the things they actually love doing together.
Because sometimes the photographs that matter most aren’t just the ones that show what your family looked like.
They’re the ones that remind you what it felt like to be there.
I asked Aimee if she would tell the story of what these photographs mean to her. The words below are hers, exactly as she wrote them.
When my children were just 8 and 10 years old, my life changed forever. At 42, I was diagnosed with breast cancer , the exact same age my mom was when she was diagnosed. I had spent much of my life afraid that one day I would hear those words, because I was a teenager when my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. She ultimately passed away at just 45.
Today, at 45, I look at that number very differently.
My breast cancer journey has included five breast surgeries, two vascular procedures, a week-long hospital stay because of a DVT and chronic blood clots, infections , blood thinner , hair loss , body changes, medical menopause, weekly chemotherapy, and a full year of immunotherapy. And even as I write this, I am sitting at Mayo Clinic for an ultrasound as I prepare for yet another surgery.
But somewhere along this journey, cancer changed more than my health. It changed the way I see life.
It taught me that life is incredibly valuable and that the things that matter most are often the simplest.
It is the friend who checks on you. The friend who brings dinner when you don’t have the energy to cook. The family member who helps with your children. The text message. The phone call. The cards in the mail. The donations. The prayers that continue long after everyone else has gone home.
Those little acts of love become enormous.
And somewhere in the middle of becoming a breast cancer survivor, I became a survivor in another way, too. I found myself facing the end of my marriage after discovering my husband’s betrayal. I never imagined that I would have to grieve the life I thought I was building while simultaneously fighting so hard to preserve the life I had.
At 45, though, I find myself looking at everything differently.
Maybe I wasn’t forgotten. Maybe I was rescued.
Maybe some of the things I thought were breaking me were actually redirecting me toward a life I was meant to live.
My health has become a daily priority. My happiness has become something I protect. And peace has become one of the greatest measures of a beautiful life.

My boys are at the center of all of it.
Dylan and Miles give me strength, motivation, and purpose. They also remind me that they are watching everything I do. So when I wake up early to work out, run on the treadmill, or train for something that scares me, like the half marathon I recently completed, I remember that I am showing them what resilience looks like.
But I’m also showing them something just as important:
You can work hard and still laugh.
You can go through difficult things and still smile.
You can be hurt and still choose kindness.
You can cry. You can grieve. You can have hard days.
And you can still choose gratitude.
My faith has grown stronger through all of this, and I’ve watched my boys develop their own ability to cope, communicate, and lean on faith when life feels uncertain. In many ways, my cancer journey gave them lessons I wish they never had to learn but I am grateful for the strength and compassion I see growing in them.

And then there are the simple things.
Watching them play soccer.
Going to the beach.
Swimming.
Hanging out with friends & family .
Laughing together.
Being the mom who gets in the water and plays with her kids instead of sitting on the sidelines.
Those are the moments I want to remember.
Which is why these photographs mean so much to me.

Mary, when you took these pictures, you weren’t just taking family photos. You were capturing a chapter of our lives.
Our last family photos were taken the Sunday before my double mastectomy in July 2023. So much has happened since then. And now, we are a family of three.
That reality made this photo session emotional for me.
But looking at these photographs, I don’t just see what has changed.
I see what remains.
I see a mother and her two boys.
I see love.
I see laughter.
I see strength.
I see healing.
I see three people who have walked through some incredibly hard seasons and are still choosing to make beautiful memories.

Putting on a swimsuit and allowing myself to be photographed was something I never imagined I would do after everything my body had been through. Yet there I was, first posing for the beautiful portraits that now hang on canvases in our home, and then putting on our swimsuits, getting in the water, laughing, playing, and simply being present with my boys.
And those are the photographs I will treasure forever.



Photography is art, but it is also memory.
It captures the way someone looked at you.
The way your children laughed.
The way you held each other.
The way you felt in a particular season of your life.

One day, I hope to be a grandmother. I hope I get to watch my boys become fathers and do the same things with their children that I am doing with them now. I hope I get to get in the water and play with their babies, watch soccer games, laugh until my stomach hurts, and take entirely too many pictures.
Because each day is a gift.
That doesn’t mean every day is easy. It doesn’t mean I don’t still grieve the life I thought I was going to have. It doesn’t mean I don’t have moments when I cry or feel overwhelmed.
It simply means that I have decided not to let the hard things steal the beautiful things.

I choose gratitude.
I choose joy.
I choose peace.
I choose faith over fear.
I choose to create new memories and build strong, lasting, loving relationships.
I choose to laugh with my boys.
I choose to get in the water.

I choose to run & lift weights.
I choose to live.



I am Aimee.
I am a breast cancer survivor.
I am a woman of faith.
I am a mother.
I am a woman who has been through some incredibly difficult chapters and I am still here to write the next ones.

And more than anything, I am grateful that I get to be Dylan and Miles’ mom.
Mary, thank you for capturing our beautiful family in 2026.
Thank you for giving us more than photographs.
You gave us memories.
You captured a moment in time that I know I will treasure for the rest of my life.
A family of three.
Still laughing.
Still loving.
Still healing.
Still choosing life.

If you’re a parent facing a cancer diagnosis and would like to document this chapter of your family’s life, please reach out to me.
Each quarter, I gift a limited number of family photography sessions to parents undergoing cancer treatment. I offer these sessions in honor of my best friend, Amanda, whose own battle with cancer changed the way I think about photographs, memories, and just how much the ordinary parts of life can come to mean.
You can read more about Amanda and why this is so personal to me in My Best Friend Has Cancer.
Aimee and I were connected through the Apryle Showers Foundation, a local organization supporting individuals undergoing cancer treatment. If you or someone you love is navigating a cancer diagnosis, I encourage you to learn more about the support they provide.
This is why I believe family photography should be about so much more than everyone looking at the camera and smiling.
Of course I want to make beautiful portraits of your family. But I also want to photograph the relationships, personalities, laughter, movement and ordinary things that make your family yours.
Sometimes that means getting dressed up for a beautiful portrait. Sometimes it means getting in the water with your kids.
Often, the photographs you’ll treasure most are a little bit of both.
If you’re looking for a St. Augustine Beach family photographer and want photographs that tell the story of who your family is right now, I’d love to help you plan a session that feels like you.