Bridal Session Outtake

by kelly sauer

I’ll be posting this bride’s lovely session soon, but I absolutely cannot resist sharing this little peek into my photographic life right now… Noley is most definitely the sweetest part of my team!

P.S. We are still looking for the right model for our amazing styled session with international stylist Alise Taggart on August 27, 2014! Please drop me an email if you’re interested!

MODEL CALL – August 27, 2014

model call | by kelly sauer

Are you interested in being a model for a Charleston shoot with stylist Alise Taggart and a fantastic team? We’re looking for a beautiful face or a beautiful couple who would be willing to be photographed for a day in exchange for some lovely photos.

To be considered for our August 27 shoot, please just drop me an email with a few headshots – I can’t wait to see you and take your picture!

Grey Likes Summer

exquisitrie by kelly sauer |

I was delighted to begin the week with an inspiration post over at Grey Likes Weddings – just a few of the photos we got to make together earlier this spring! Do stop in and see the loveliness styled by Summer Watkins herself with the new Type A Society (formerly Fleurish Events), Claire Pettibone, Blushing Makeup Artistry, Magnolia Bakery, Karilyn Turley, and Jenna Rainey – we had a lot of pretty to play with that day!

Please forgive my sporadic blogging – in addition to my maternity leave, my health has taken quite a turn after Noley’s birth, and I have been having some trouble being online much lately. I have so much to share, I think I shall never catch up!

Once Upon a Morning – Summer

la joie, la vie | iphone photo by kelly sauer

“Summer, after all, is a time when wonderful things can happen to quiet people. For those few months, you’re not required to be who everyone thinks you are, and that cut-grass smell in the air and the chance to dive into the deep end of a pool give you a courage you don’t have the rest of the year. You can be grateful and easy, with no eyes on you, and no past. Summer just opens the door and lets you out.”

― Deb Caletti, Honey, Baby, Sweetheart

When I Need Him

la joie, la vie | by kelly sauer

Pencil marks on a wall, I wasn’t always this tall
You scattered some monsters from beneath my bed
You watched my team win, You watched my team lose
You watched when my bicycle went down again

And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call You by name
And I said, “Elbow Healer, Superhero
Come if You can” and You said, “I Am”

Only sixteen, life is so mean
What kind of curfew is at ten p.m.?
You saw my mistakes, You watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I’d never love again

And when I was weak, unable to speak
Still I could call You by name
And I said, “Heartache Healer, Secret Keeper
Be my best friend and You said, “I Am”

You saw me wear white by pale candlelight
I said, “Forever to what lies ahead”
Two kids and a dream, with kids that can scream
Too much it might seem when it is two a.m.

And when I am weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
Oh, Shepherd, Savior, Pasture Maker
Hold onto my hand, You say, “I Am”

The winds of change and circumstance
Blow in and all around us
So we find a foothold that’s familiar
And bless the moments that we feel You nearer

When life had begun, I was woven and spun
You let the angels dance around the throne
And who can say when, but they’ll dance again
When I am free and finally headed home

I will be weak, unable to speak
Still I will call You by name
Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer, Comforter, Healer, my Redeemer
Lord and King, Beginning and the End

I Am
Yes, I Am

- Nichole Nordeman, I Am

Birth Day – You and Me

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

What day is it? And in what month?
This clock never seemed so alive
I can’t keep up and I can’t back down
I’ve been losing so much time

‘Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to lose
And it’s you and me and all of the people
And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you

All of the things that I want to say just aren’t coming out right
I’m tripping on words
You got my head spinning
I don’t know where to go from here

‘Cause it’s you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to prove
And it’s you and me and all of the people
And I don’t know why I can’t keep my eyes off of you

- Lifehouse, “You and Me”

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

I couldn’t wait for Piper to come. I wanted her in June, but she waited and waited until she was three days past her due date smack dab in the middle of July, making her own way about things, the way we have seen her make it ever since. Bredon teased me for two weeks of prodromal labor until I was so tired I couldn’t believe he was EVER coming, and then he came on his due date, yelling for us to put him back where it was warm already! And then there was Noley, our little tagalong, unwilling to be left behind for long and more ready to meet me than I was to meet her, at least as far as my schedule was concerned.

Noley’s labor was my favorite labor. Beginning a little over 24 hours before she was born, she and I just hung out together, waiting for the work to finish. She dug a little deeper with each contraction, waiting, wriggling, hiccuping in between (she hiccups more than my other two ever did!), puttering her way down the birth canal until finally with one great contraction, my water broke and her head came to the excited cries of her siblings, who were in the room watching her arrival.

Always before, they had told me to “push,” except this time, when my midwife waited and let my body would do the work, and all I had to do was breathe and let time and contractions pass and allow my baby to come when she was ready. *I* didn’t have to be ready. I just had to *be.*

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

My eyes were closed as her head emerged, but I heard my littles, “I see her head!” heard the squeak in Pip’s voice that was between tears and happy, the awe in Squiggy’s “oh! she has hair!” Even as I registered them, I felt Noley flip wildly in my pelvis as another strong contraction pushed the rest of her out into the world. It all happened in the space of a minute or so, and then she was on my empty belly, wet and warm and crawling her way up to my heart.

The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was her little face and her baby cry, “I’m here, I’m here, Mama!” I grabbed her and I covered her and I called back to her, “you’re here, you’re here,” not recognizing my own voice, knowing in that way you know as a mama that I would never be the same person on the other side of her, that I would never forget this moment and the feel of her new life in my hands.

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie
noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

Time stops when labor begins. I don’t understand why it does this, but after birthing three babies, I know that it does. After the nesting and the restlessness and the endless waiting, the passing moments don’t matter as you focus on one contraction at a time, as the increasing pressure from the uterus brings you closer to holding a new little person in your arms. You know you can do it, and then you think you can’t and then you know that you can and you have done it – and this is the way it is with your children every moment for the rest of your life.

The hours pass, and then the days, and then the weeks, and you touch and you nurse and you smell and you laugh at all the scrunchy faces and talk about her hedgehog sleep sounds. You wonder if your other babies were ever so small and hold her as close as you can. You think about the miracle that she wakes up and as you tuck her in late at night after she has finally nursed herself to sleep, you think about the miracle that she goes to sleep. You introduce her to the sun and the moon and dream about the day she will really smile at you, when she will be ready to coo at you while you talk to her.

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

For months, I have been deep-tired and ready to give up all the things. God knew (and I think Noley knew too) that she would come just exactly when I needed her to keep me alive and reaching for life, whether I knew I needed her or not. I will never, ever forget how she just couldn’t wait to live.

noley | by kelly sauer | la joie, la vie

I’ve finally begun to surface from our rest, and she is four weeks old tomorrow and her sister is seven years old today and I know time is passing and I must step back into it. I have been a mother before, and for longer than this four weeks, and here is time again, reminding me how to take the next step and the next step, and here we go living again.

Repost: On Living Simply

I originally posted this piece in September of 2012, but I wanted to repost it now in the middle of some really big changes to our lives and business while I’m working on some new material for this space. I hope you don’t mind – it is one of my favorite posts in all my years of blogging. In times of change, you ask why things can’t be what they were, and it’s easy to feel as though you have lost more than you are gaining. Every new day is a step of faith.

I come from simple stock. My mom always wished she were Amish, said she was born in the wrong generation. My grandma, the most practical, beautiful person I knew, grew up during the Great Depression. My mother-in-law raised four kids on a limited budget and crafted a beautiful home (and a thousand gifts) from what she had. I learned from my mom that thrift stores have treasures, learned from my grandma that the old things are sometimes still the most beautiful, learned from my mother-in-law that even what we could throw away may end up being useful.

These women have taught me how to make do with less, how to make more with less. How a simple, home-cooked meal served up on a table with a tablecloth and shared with people you love can feel like fine dining. How lighting a candle in a room makes habits into romance. How doing dishes together helps you remember you’re not alone. How creating things with your soulmate refreshes your love, no matter how long you’ve been married.

They taught me how every moment with the people in your heart is an opportunity to live your dream.

I have things, but I don’t have everything. We live in someone else’s house, drive two cars that make funny noises, and work hard just to make ends meet. Our home is made up of a collection of hand-me-downs and Craigslist finds. I buy most of our clothes at thrift shops, and we cook most of our meals from scratch.

Five years ago, I couldn’t have imagined being content with this. I think I thought we’d have a home of our own, that we’d be making twice what we make now, that when I “grew up,” I really could do and buy anything I wanted.

But this summer, I have found myself more content than I’ve ever been in my life. I love where we are, love Charleston, love that my husband comes home at regular hours, that I get to travel and take pictures, that we have a fig tree in our back yard, that the sun goes down so tropical here. I love that I can imagine up meals with what we’ve got in our cupboards, that Pete can fix things around the house and I can help him, that we live near the sea and when it cools down here I come alive.

We discovered something on Labor Day weekend. We’d intended to crash, and do nothing. We put the to-do list away, and started on that scheduled plan – and then we sort of lived into painting the guest room, cleaning the garage, making pizza, cleaning the house, and going to the beach. When we went to bed Monday night – me with a hundred pictures on my camera that I’d CHOSEN and not just snapped – we realized we’d actually lived all weekend.

And we had still “got things done” and while just hanging out with no to-do list running us. We always have “less” energy and “not enough” time, but we had filled up our hearts just living together, and we found we had just enough. It was simple, childlike living, just doing the next thing instead of looking at what was coming at us or what we needed to do and stressing out about it.

I often worry that I don’t live simply enough, especially when I see others selling off their goods to get out of debt and giving everything to care for the poor. I have more than they have, perhaps too much, I think. But I’m realizing that what my mom and grandma were teaching me wasn’t that austerity or asceticism.

It was this simple, real-life-and-not-Pinterest lesson that you can go looking for life on the other side of your life plan, or you can open your hands, your eyes, and your heart to engage life right where you are. Love isn’t a to-do list. It is knowing – and being known.