What We Don't Talk About Much: Loss in Birth

Unexplainably difficult. . .but it does get easier.

That’s what Victoria wants people to know.

Victoria’s son Mason was born on March 21st at 2:13 AM. Mason was stillborn at 34 weeks.

I and other birth photographers mostly write, speak, and show photos about the joy of childbirth. We acknowledge that birth is raw, gritty and grueling, but the experience generally ends with this incredible bundle of possibility.

What we often don’t talk about or share is that sometimes the reward of holding our hopes and dreams in our arms doesn’t happen.

But infant loss occurs every day in the United States.
As of this writing, one in about 175 births (or about 21,000 births per year) is a stillbirth.

I’m fortunate and grateful to not have experienced infant loss personally. My mother-heart can only dig into its empathy and imagine the heaviness of it all. I know nothing I could say or do would lessen that kind of pain.

All I can do is bear witness, let people know I see them. And, if they wish, give them pictures illustrating the love and grief they felt at that time.

Though Victoria had a short time to say “hello” and “goodbye” to her baby, she wanted part of that to be documented visually, and I was honored to photograph a bit of their precious time together.

Just like any new mother, Victoria held Mason.
She rubbed his hands and touched his face.
She kissed him and talked softly to him.
Mason’s grandmother, aunt and great-grandmother also gave tender touches and caringly fussed with blankets and baby clothes.

Everyone cried.

“He was so loved and I hold him very close to my heart everyday. I want people to know that this tragic loss is so unexplainably difficult, but it does get easier. I think about him everyday, but it brings me comfort knowing that he's in heaven, protected by angels.”

I document infant loss pro bono within my service area as my schedule allows. If you or someone you know is in need of these services, please don’t hesitate to contact me.