( CNN ) Lynsey Addario was five months pregnant and taking photos of skeletal children in the Horn of Africa , when she felt her own baby kicking for the first time . `` He came to life as a little person inside me as I entered Somalia , the land ridden with death , '' writes the Pulitzer Prize-winning photojournalist , of an assignment covering drought victims in 2011 . In Addario 's line of work , death -- and new life -- abound . Since the mid-1990s , she has covered the Taliban in Afghanistan , the war in Iraq , the Syrian refugee crisis , and countless more conflicts for media outlets including Getty Images , The New York Times , and National Geographic . Her spectacular and deeply intimate images shine a light on places few would dare to travel , and are now gathered together for the first time in a vivid memoir called `` It 's what I do : A photographer 's life of love and war . '' The pictures of malnourished toddlers in Somalia that day came as Addario was coming to terms with her own pregnancy . Until he started kicking inside of her , the 41-year-old had only ever thought of unborn son Lukas as a `` pea '' or `` avocado pit . '' This was an entirely new jolt of reality for the tenacious American photographer -- `` Before Lukas , you know I did n't really think about my mortality , '' she told CNN . `` Becoming a mother has n't necessarily changed how I shoot , but it certainly has made me more sensitive , and it certainly makes it much harder for me to photograph dying children , '' she said , her voice warm and raspy over the phone from New York . That 's not to say Addario has stepped away from the action since having a child with husband and former Reuters journalist Paul de Bendern ; the family now based in London . After all , this is the same woman who covered a prisoner exchange in the Gaza Strip , while seven months pregnant with her first child , and less than a year after being kidnapped in Libya . She still goes into war zones , though these days tries to stay away from the front line . `` I always knew my death would be a possible consequence of the work I do . But for me it was a price I was willing to pay because this is what I believed in , '' she said . `` Now I think 'OK , I want to cover that story , but how can I do it in a way that I can get home to Lukas ? '' Motherhood is n't the only thing that 's changed the stakes on the battlefield . Last month ISIS released a video showing the beheading of Japanese film-maker Kenji Goto -- the latest in a string of gruesome journalist deaths throughout 2014 . This is a dangerous new era for war correspondents in the Middle East , says Addario , who went undercover documenting the lives of women under Taliban rule well before 9/11 even happened . When the Twin Towers fell , Addario was one of the few journalists to have an insider 's knowledge of working in Afghanistan , and throughout the decade made a name for herself as one of the most accomplished reporters in the region . `` When I first started out I really felt like : ' I 'm a journalist , I will be respected as a neutral observer , '' she said . `` And I do n't feel like that holds true anymore . I do n't think people respect journalists the same way they once did . '' `` In fact , we are a target because there 's a bounty on our heads . ISIS can make a huge amount of money from journalists , though there are some countries who do not pay ransom like the U.S. or the UK . '' Addario knows that danger first hand . In 2011 , she and three other New York Times journalists were kidnapped by pro-Qaddafi soldiers in Libya , and over several horrifying days were bound , punched and groped , before being released . She describes being blindfolded while one of her captors `` caressed my face like a lover , '' repeating the same Arabic phrase over and over . `` Slowly he ran his hands over my hair and spoke to me in a slow , steady voice , '' Addario writes in her memoir . `` What is he saying , Anthony ? '' she asked one of her fellow captives . `` Anthony took his time in answering . 'He 's telling you that you will die tonight . ' '' Addario not only lived through the ordeal -- within months she was back working in Senegal , Saudi Arabia , and Afghanistan . If her experience in Libya did n't put her off -- what would ? `` I 'm at the point where I 've been kidnapped twice , two of my drivers have died , I 've lost so many friends , and every time something happens it does set me back a bit , '' she said matter-of-factly . `` But I do n't think it 's just one event that will basically turn me away forever , I just do n't think that 's the kind of person I am . '' The youngest of four sisters born to Italian-American hairdresser parents in Connecticut , Addario 's family home was `` a kaleidoscope of transvestites and Village People lookalikes , a haven for people who were n't accepted elsewhere , '' she writes . There was an open-door policy for the marginalized of society , and it put her in good stead for a life interviewing those living on edges . `` Now I go into all these situations and I really do n't feel like I judge people -- I just accept people for who they are and record their stories , '' she said . Even as we speak , the death toll from fighting in Ukraine rises , and while other people might thank their lucky stars they 're far from the crossfire , Addario feels `` constantly tormented but what I 'm not covering . '' `` I feel bad that I 'm not there , '' she said of the conflict . `` I know my perspective on these things is the complete opposite to so many people . But I feel a responsibility , I feel like I need to do it because I have the tools to cover war , and because I 've done it for so many years . `` It 's very hard to turn your back once you 're aware of what 's going on , and you 're aware of the injustices , and you 're aware of the civilian casualties , '' she said . `` It 's much easier if you have no idea and you 've never seen it . '' Indeed Addario 's job is to keep her eyes open , where others must look away . She offers us a window into someone else 's hell , and yet possesses a special talent for finding moments of tenderness and hope among the rubble . Being a female photojournalist has also given her unique access to intensely private worlds , often out-of-bounds for her overwhelmingly male colleagues . She can capture the horror and determination of women in rape centers in the Democratic Republic of Congo ; self-immolation patients in Afghanistan ; and death during childbirth in Sierra Leone . It takes a strong stomach -- and mind -- for this line of work , and Addario 's book opens with a gruesome description of an airstrike in Ajdabiya , Libya . `` There was part of a brain on the passenger seat ; shards of skull were embedded in the rear parcel shelf . Hospital employees in white medical uniforms carefully picked up the pieces and placed them in a bag , '' she writes . How does she cope with the unimaginable horror year after year ? '' I do take it away with me , and I 'm sure I do suffer from trauma . But I feel as though I 'm pretty well adjusted , '' she said . `` I do think that the more I cover war , the luckier I feel . I was born in the U.S ... . in Connecticut of all places , and so I think it 's very important to not forget that . '' Perhaps covering war does n't require a hardened heart -- just an exceptionally large one .
War photographer Lynsey Addario has been kidnapped twice -- why does she keep going back ? The first time was in the summer of 2012, when a group calling itself Islamic State (IS) stormed through northern Iraq and captured her for nearly two months. ` It 's what I do : A photographer 's life of love and war , '' powerful insight into remarkable career .