Becoming Matriarch
A Portrait & Legacy Conversation for Mothers
Why This Exists
Motherhood—especially in the early years—is rich with meaning, growth, and quiet wisdom.
And yet, for many of us, life moves too fast and too full to pause, take it in, and capture who we are.
This is a space to do exactly that.
Why This Matters
For your present self - A guided experience to pause, reflect, and capture this chapter of life—both visually and in your own words.
For your future self - A way to remember this chapter—beyond the blur of daily life.
For your children and family - A meaningful artifact that allows them to know you more fully—beyond the role you played.
The Experience (~2.5 hours total)
Arrival & Orientation (30 minutes)
A walkthrough of the portrait session and conversation; orienting to the space and our shared intentions.
Portrait Session (60 minutes)
A natural, relaxed photo session capturing you in this season of motherhood. Shot on iPhone 15 Pro Max with a documentary, intimate aesthetic. Indoor or outdoor locations within the GTA.
Legacy Conversation (60 minutes)
A guided, coaching-style conversation capturing what often goes unspoken:
Your dreams and aspirations
Your fears and challenges
Your deepest hopes and prayers for your children, loved ones, and yourself.
The wisdom you’re gathering in this season
Reflections you may want your children to one day hear
The Output - Your Legacy Artifact
A curated collection of images, paired with thoughtfully captured excerpts from our conversation.
A living record of who you are in this chapter.
Details
Who: Mothers at any stage of motherhood
Where: Greater Toronto Area (GTA) - location TBD; outdoor option available
When:
Booked as a Mother’s Day offering (May 2026)
Sessions held in July–August 2026
Format: Limited pilot (8 spots available)
Investment: $350
Expression of Interest Form
Inspiration
A couple of months ago, while visiting Maman for a cup of chai, my eyes caught a batch of red photo albums stacked neatly on a bookshelf in her room.
A smile came over my face. I was being summoned—as I am every couple of months—to walk over, pick a random album from the chronologically organized series, and go on a journey back in time.
The red albums capture our years in Sweden (1986–1995)—a safe haven that cradled my childhood after my family left Iran at the height of the Iran-Iraq war.
On this day, as I flipped through familiar images, I found myself drawn to a particular photo of my mother.
She looked… younger than I had ever really seen her. Perhaps because in that moment, she was only a few years younger than I am now—also navigating motherhood with two young children.
I felt a deep affection, and a quiet curiosity: Who was she then? Not just as my mother—but as a woman, a friend, a partner, a human.
What were her dreams? Her fears? Her regrets? What brought her to life? What sustained her through those years?
I closed the album, turned to her as she sipped her chai, and asked: “What were you like in this stage of your life?”
She paused, cradled her cup, and said gently: “I was full of hope. Hope for a new life in Sweden. A bright future for myself and my family. I had a lot of energy—and I believed I could reach my goals.”
I asked her: “What’s it like to remember her—that version of you?”
She smiled: “It reminds me that I’m here because of her… all that she did and all that she was. That’s what allows me to live with peace today.”
In that moment, time collapsed. I could feel the power of her remembering—of reconnecting with parts of herself that had been blurred, buried, or simply lived past.
How might we honour and capture ourselves, in midst of becoming? And so, Becoming Matriarch was born.