On November 4th, 2019, we welcomed our fifth child into the world—a day filled with joy, relief, and deep gratitude. Exactly 371 days earlier, we were in the very same hospital, in the same operating room, delivering our fourth child, Clark, whom we had to say goodbye to at just 22 weeks. It’s astonishing how much can change in a single year—heartache and hope, loss and new beginnings, all intertwined in ways you never expect.
When I discovered I was pregnant again less than five months after losing Clark, I was flooded with a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, excitement, fear, hope, anxiety—they all collided inside me. Could I go through pregnancy again after such a devastating loss? The truth is, I had to try. We needed this little rainbow baby to complete our family, and I couldn’t help but feel that Clark, watching from above, had sent this tiny soul to us. This little one was meant to be here, a beacon of love and light after so much darkness.
As the pregnancy progressed, so did my anxieties. I was terrified of experiencing loss again. Pregnancy after loss is hands-down one of the hardest journeys I’ve ever faced. Yet, I also knew how precious this baby was, how much love awaited them, and that I was ready to treasure every single moment. I knew this might be our last, and with that thought came a determination to make every experience, every memory, as meaningful as possible.
Since this was likely our final child, I wanted to capture this arrival in a way no one had before. I was scheduled for my fifth cesarean section in just six and a half years—barely a year after Clark’s birth. Given the statistics and my previous experiences, both my OB and my high-risk OB recommended scheduling earlier rather than later, so at 37 weeks, our rainbow baby would make his grand entrance. I wanted this birth to feel empowering, celebratory, and unforgettable—not just another surgery, but a statement: c-sections are birth, too, and they can be profoundly strong and beautiful.
I’d noticed plenty of photographers sharing birth stories online, but nearly all were from vaginal deliveries. I had never seen a c-section documented from the birthing parent’s perspective—and I decided I was going to change that. My prior sections had always been scheduled, and while different from my first labor, I didn’t expect to feel the intense, uncontrollable shaking or fear of the unknown that comes with it. I discussed my plan with my OB, asking, “Would I be able to take my own photos during my c-section?” Her look mixed surprise and reassurance, and she said, “Absolutely. I think we can make that happen.”
When the day finally came, I handed my camera to my husband, Mike. As we prepared to enter the operating room, Victoria, my incredible birth photographer and dear friend, joined us. Mike held my camera tightly as the anesthesiologist prepared me. Moments later, it was time. I took the camera back, adjusted my settings, and braced myself to capture our baby’s first moments.
Strapped to the OR table, I focused on my camera and tried to stay grounded. Just as the anesthesiologist dropped the clear plastic drape, my OB pulled our son Teddy into the world—screaming, vibrant, alive. Mike shouted, “It’s a boy!” as I clicked away, tears welling in my eyes, heart overflowing with relief, joy, and awe. This was surreal—exactly 371 days earlier in the same room, our Clark had been delivered silently, without cries, without celebration. And now, witnessing Teddy’s arrival, seeing it through my own lens, I felt an immense healing wash over me.
Teddy’s birth wasn’t just empowering—it was profoundly healing. It pulled me out of the shadow of fear and loss, showing that hope and joy can rise from heartbreak. It reassured me that Clark had been watching, guiding us through this pregnancy, and that love—sometimes unseen—can leave a lasting mark. Capturing Teddy’s birth from my own perspective allowed me to take ownership of my story, to honor both Clark and this sweet rainbow baby, and to cherish every moment for a lifetime.
Photography has always been my passion, my life’s work. Being able to document Teddy’s arrival, just as I have cherished Clark’s photos, was invaluable. Birth is unique, powerful, and transformative, and no two stories are ever the same. This experience reminded me that empowerment comes in many forms, and that when you believe in something, you can make it happen. Teddy’s birth taught me that joy can follow sorrow, strength can follow fear, and love—love endures, even in the hardest moments.
