This project began when a friend of mine told me about his days in the army. His mother had told him that every time her phone rang, she would panic, fearing the worst for her son.
When I thought about my friend’s mother, I pictured her sitting in a worn-out armchair, the room just lit by one lamp and the phone to her right. As if it were her nemesis. It felt as if I had already taken the picture.
Thus Project Mom began. I wanted to take portraits of mothers and give them back something they could keep forever. I began to meet extraordinary mothers who had taken heart-wrenching journeys through life—mothers who had done so much for others; mothers who had so often had to put themselves last.
I wish I could have taken all the pictures needed and finished with a picture of my own mom, who lives in Birmingham, England. She raised me alone: My father was never really around, and I wasn’t exactly the perfect son, but I don’t want to dwell on that. I will, though, share one story about growing up.
I think my mom was working three jobs at the time, and I would cook my dinner while she was at work. I can’t remember how old I was, maybe 12, but she would buy these chicken breasts and, of course, being on a budget, would plan the week’s shopping perfectly.
I didn’t know at the time, but the two pieces of chicken in the pack were one for me and one for my mom. I cooked them both, ate them and had a great meal. My mom came home after working a 16-plus hour day and went to cook one. Unfortunately, I had already eaten it. But the thing is, she never said anything; she just thought I was a growing boy and needed extra.
Looking back, I wish she would have said something, given me a bit of the business about it. Three jobs, and sometimes wouldn’t get a decent meal at the end of the day! That’s the sacrifice I guess you make when you’re a parent. As the years have passed, Mom has supported me all the way in my photography career; she even flew out from England to come to my first photo exhibition. When you read this, Mom, please know this: I wish I could have come home and taken your picture, too. This series is for you, and for all the moms out there who have been amazing in every way.
Jeanette Jacobs
Jeanette was born in South Africa; her mother was British and her father was South African. She decided to leave the country in 1961, when her maid, Beauty, from the Bantu tribe, was dragged from her home. Jeanette was tired of a nation poisoned by apartheid.
“I came to America because I didn’t want my kids hating people because of the color of their skin,” she says. “I once had a friend from India who had four academic degrees, and the only place he could buy a home was in the middle of a slum just because his skin was a few shades darker than that of a white-skinned South African.”
After coming to the U.S. in 1983, Jeanette lived in Southern California, where she wrote The International Gourmet Glatt Kosher Cookbook (New Beginnings, 2001). After domestic problems ended her marriage, she moved to Las Vegas in 2000 to be a caregiver for those in need.
Her two children are now living in the new, integrated South Africa.
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JoAnn Armstead
JoAnn had her first daughter in 1953, when she was 19. The father wasn’t around much, so she found herself struggling for a support system to help raise her daughter. JoAnn had been orphaned at birth. Most young parents can call their parents and ask for advice; JoAnn never had that luxury. So she went to the library and turned to the books of Dr. Benjamin Spock.
In the 1950s, it was difficult for African–Americans to get a job in corporate America, so JoAnn knew she had to continue her education in order to give herself and her daughter a fighting chance.
JoAnn had her second baby five years later; she says the second time around was a lot easier. She worked full time and went to school at night for seven years. She earned her degree in business administration; she is now the founder and president of the Nevada chapter of the Union of Black Episcopalians.
The toughest challenge, she says, was keeping her children in good company, among friends who wouldn’t lead them astray. Apparently she did a good job: One of her daughters is an attorney and the other is a physician. Even now the daughters will call JoAnn and ask her ...
“How did you do it, Mom?"
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Michelle Franco
Four years ago, Michelle gave birth to a daughter, Vivaldi. The months that followed, though, turned dark when Michelle’s relationship with her boyfriend became abusive—and she knew the relationship had to end.
She has been now supporting herself and her daughter for more than three years, working waitressing jobs while she attends the College of Southern Nevada. When her brother died last year, she took care of his son. She is now married—she describes her husband, Fabian, as “the greatest person I’ve ever met”—and has a second daughter, Kalidasa. The name means “servant of Kali,” the Hindu goddess of time and change.
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Sandra Blackburn
Sandra always wanted to be a mother, but she never expected it to be such a challenging endeavor. Born in Orange County, Calif., in 1956, she escaped from an abusive alcoholic father at 16 and was raised by her mother, who turned out to be an exemplary role model.
She met her high school sweetheart, Richard Blackburn, at 14. They married in 1975 after graduating from high school. Their first son, Rick, was born in 1980 after 36 hours of active labor during which Sandra was stricken with preeclampsia, a rapid rise in blood pressure that can be life-threatening for both mother and child. Both Sandra and Rick recovered with no permanent effects.
Two years later, her daughter, Randee, was delivered three months premature because of an ovarian tumor. Randee was born with hypogammaglobulinemia, an immune deficiency disorder that caused her to remain in the hospital until she was 3 months old.
Richard was transferred to Nellis Air Force Base, and the couple moved to Las Vegas in 1985. In 2000, Sandra was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, but it was caught in the early stages, and she suffered no long-term effects.
Sandra, who has worked for 38 years as a medical administrator, has always had a generous heart. An avid animal lover, she has served as a boarder for sick animals for the Humane Society, housing more than 20 animals at one point. She also ran a small day-care center, watching six children in addition to her own.
On March 8, Sandra lost her husband to cancer. As cliché as it sounds, I really could see the pain behind her eyes, the loneliness after losing a loved one. For this photograph, we went to Desert Shores with her dogs. I have no idea what she was thinking about, but she really did look happy in the sunset.
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Sonia Lising-Cahalan
When I first met Sonia, I was in awe of how many pictures she had of her with her son, Robbie. It made me think two things, one—to jump on a plane and go take more pictures with my mom, and two—how close they must have been. There were so many. I only got to meet Robbie and spend time with him once, but I’ll never forget it. I was at my girlfriend’s house, meeting many of her relatives for the first time; I was nervous, even afraid to go in, but Robbie—her old family friend—immediately made me feel at home. I believe it is always a testament to the parents when their child is as well liked and as friendly as Robbie was.
“The funniest moment I ever encountered was when my children would bicker in front of me,” Sonia says. “It was funny and at the same time made my heart swell with love for both of them. Their jokes, no matter how simple they were, were the funniest to me. They are my personal comedians.”
Last October, Robbie died in a car accident at age 22. When I was thinking of mothers I could give back to for this project, I instantly thought of taking Sonia’s picture. I cannot imagine being a parent and losing your son or daughter, so I wanted to give her back something she could keep forever. I decided to photograph Sonia looking at all her memories and pictures of her and Robbie.
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Janet Sliger
Janet was four months pregnant when she went in for an ultrasound and learned that her baby had a cyst on the back of her neck.
Two days later, the doctor told her the baby also had a cleft lip and palate, a clubbed foot and a rare neural tube defect. The doctor explained that babies with the defect had a high mortality rate. The little girl would most likely not survive—and if she did, she would have major motor function problems. Janet was faced with the question of whether to have a medical abortion. She decided to keep the baby; she had felt her kicking; she had already fallen in love with her.
The knowledge that the child would more than likely die put Janet’s marriage under great strain. When she was seven months pregnant, Janet developed a massive deep-vein thrombosis blood clot in her leg, requiring twice-daily blood-thinning shots.
The doctors watched her carefully to make sure she did not go into labor while she was on blood thinners—labor could be life-threatening because of loss of blood. She had a scheduled C-section on March 25, 2010. She and her husband named the baby Ava Marie.
Ava had two brain surgeries in her first two weeks. She was on a ventilator the entire time; everything seemed to be going wrong. Her lungs kept collapsing, and she developed kidney problems. Janet spent each day at the hospital; some days, it was painful to go home.
She and her husband finally decided to take Ava off the ventilator and let her go. The doctors unhooked Ava from the ventilator and handed her to Janet. She died in Janet’s arms.
Janet says her world came crashing down that day. The strain on her marriage intensified. She and her husband divorced six months later.
“I don’t regret anything at all,” Janet says. “I would go through it all again—even if I only got to see her again for five minutes.”
I cannot begin to imagine the pain that Janet has gone through. This spring, Janet released balloons into the sky for Ava. I wanted to give her a picture that she could keep in memory. I know it’s not a lot, but I wanted to give her something.
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Jackie Brantley
When I entered Jackie’s house to take her picture, she asked me if I was good on time for the night. She wanted to bake a few sweet potato pies for the picture and make me feel welcome in her home. She gave me a tour of the quaint house, which she purchased for her and her son by working 11-hour days and baking hundreds of pies to make ends meet.
In 2008, Jackie was diagnosed with bladder cancer, which had killed her brother. When she learned about her cancer, she decided she needed to create something she loved. So she poured her energy into a lush backyard garden, growing romaine lettuce, red onions, asparagus, grapes for jelly—and, of course, sweet potatoes for those pies.
Jackie beat the disease.
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. All are really nicely captured, by the way! I love Janet and Michelle's photos, especially
