Returning to Eastern Nationals: A Shift in Perspective
Nationals has been a staple on my calendar since 2013. For the last several seasons, I’ve had the privilege of helping lead the Team Photo production at the Level 9 Western National Championships. It’s work I love deeply. It’s fast paced, high stakes, and rooted in documenting some of the most meaningful moments in this sport.
But 2026 asked something different of me.
With both Level 9 and Level 10 Nationals spanning nearly two and a half weeks of continuous production, it became important to me that my family and I remain together throughout it all. Not in fragments, not in rotations, but together, as a unit, while still showing up fully in the work I care so much about.
That meant making a shift. This year, I returned to Level 9 Eastern Nationals in Savannah, Georgia, while the Western crew held down Boise. It was a logistical flip that allowed me to stay present in both my professional responsibilities and my most important role at home: being a mom.
The Flip That Made It Possible
For the last four years, I’ve helped lead the Level 9 Western Nationals alongside my parents’ company, Team Photo. It’s a massive production with hundreds of athletes, tight timelines, and constant movement. Stepping into Easterns this year meant a different floor, but the same level of intensity, precision, and expectation.
The environment doesn’t change. The stakes don’t change. What changed this year was everything happening just outside the arena. Because I wasn’t just navigating a national event anymore, I was doing it with my 10 month old son, Milo, in tow.
And none of it would have been possible without my husband.
The Real Rhythm Behind the Days
People often see the final images, the polished galleries, the captured moments on the floor. What they don’t see is the rhythm it takes to get there when life is layered in.
Our days in Savannah were a constant, intentional cycle of teamwork. I would start the morning nursing Milo before heading to the venue. From there, I’d step onto the floor for Session 1, fully immersed in photographing the athletes while my husband took over the morning at the hotel.
He carried the heavy lift: breakfast, the first nap, and getting Milo settled into his day so everything could stay in motion. He would time it so that Milo was ready to meet me again at lunch, where I’d step away to nurse him, eat with our team and family, and reset for the second half of the day.
After lunch, he would take Milo back for his afternoon nap while I photographed Session 2. It was a steady rhythm back and forth, in and out of two very different worlds, but moving with the same intention. Later in the afternoon, we would all reconnect again. Another nursing session, dinner together, a brief pause in the day where everything aligned. And then we would switch roles.
My husband would step back in to finish the final session of the day on the floor, while I returned to the hotel to handle the evening rhythm, dinner, nursing, and getting Milo ready for bed. I would put him to sleep, reset, and prepare to do it all again the next morning.
It’s a cycle that requires precision, communication, and flexibility in every direction.
What This Work Has Come to Mean
Photographing gymnastics has always been personal to me. This sport has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. Long before I ever stepped behind a camera at this level. There is something about it that feels familiar in a way that never fades. Now, as a mother, that connection has deepened.
I see the athletes differently. I notice the coaches, the parents, the quiet moments between routines, and the emotional weight that sits behind every skill performed on the floor. There’s a fuller understanding now, not just of what it takes to compete, but what it takes to arrive there. And having my husband as a true partner in this season of life has made it possible for me to continue doing this work at the level it requires. We’ve adapted. We’ve figured it out day by day. And we continue to adjust as both our son and our work evolve.
It’s not always seamless, but it is intentional.
Heading Into Level 10
As we wrap up Level 9 Nationals and head to Oklahoma for Level 10, I’m carrying all of this with me. The work, the family, the rhythm, and the reminder that both can exist at once in this season of life. Not perfectly. Not easily. But fully. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything. For a closer look at this journey in its raw, everyday reality, click here.
