Consider this the extended version of my bio. I’m somewhat of a socially anxious person, so these sort of introductions always stress me out to be perfectly honest. I’d much rather ask questions about YOU.

Since I was a young girl, I was always intrigued by gadgets and technology. When the Best Buy ads came in our local Sunday paper, I would always scan through the camera section, and lusted after a having big camera of my own one day. It seemed like such a “cool thing” to do. I took a photography class in high school and was mesmerized by the process of developing my own film, and then watching the image appear on paper in the darkroom. It was like magic.

It wasn’t until I graduated from college and got one of my first “big girl jobs” that I would end up actually affording one. But life has a way of working itself out.

I would take the camera out, take pictures of the flowers at spring, the birds nest on our front porch of our first house as a married couple, our dog who was a puppy at the time. Nothing really in particular. The simple joy of clicking a shutter and messing around with editing it on my computer.

Then, it wasn’t until our first child came along that I really felt it spark joy in me. His first moments crawling, and then inching towards his first birthday, as he started to toddle around the house. I remember distinctly taking an image of our son and our dog together playing in his room. It stirred something in me for some reason. I took more images. Not really paying attention to what I was trying to do, really. Just trying to find slivers of beautiful moments.

Then, the camera was packed away again as we moved across the country as a family to the South. We became pregnant with our second and every now and then I would bring the camera out to watch our children grow. A few fleeting frames made me extremely proud. Again the camera would spend months in the camera bag in the closet as I juggled two kids under two at the time. It became a fun experiment when I had the time to pull it out, watching our kids get into mischief from behind the lens. Catching funny expressions here and there. Flash forward yet another few years when we found our way back to Iowa, where I can clearly pinpoint the moment that this fun little hobby I infrequently did, became a full on obsession.

It was January 2017. Fresh into the new year when everyone’s new goals, habits and ideas are tossed around like beach balls at a party. We were pregnant with our third child, after almost a year of trying (and losing one baby early at 8 weeks). I committed myself to taking at least one new picture on my camera every day. I’m not even sure what stirred inside me to proclaim such a lofty goal. Or why it was a camera hobby that I picked. But, I started.

A few days later I excitedly drove to my OB appointment, it was the 20 week appointment. The appointment that seems to make things feel all the more real and alive that this growing baby is going to join your family. I couldn’t wait to find out what we were having. The technician quietly took the baby’s measurements and showed me a few profiles. She wasn’t sure but it appeared we were having a girl. A sister for my daughter. I was so happy for her, because I loved having sisters of my own.

Once the ultrasound was complete, I went to a patient room to wait for the doctor and get the rest of the appointment over with. I was smiling from ear to ear, thinking of how our daughter would become a big sister. Suddenly, the doctor came in, rather hurriedly, immediately sat on the chair next to me and rattled off words like “genetic birth defects incompatible with life.”

To say I was shell shocked would be an understatement. I’m not sure I remember breathing in that very moment. She ordered me to take some more blood drawn to get further information and potential diagnosis (which wound up being correct, our baby had Triploidy) and promptly drew up orders for me to go to the University of Iowa hospital 30 minutes away the following week for an additional ultrasound and more testing.

The next few weeks were rather painful for me to put into words. Mia was born stillborn at 23 weeks and 6 days. I still remember nearly every detail of delivering her. I laid around on the couch for days in grief. I wanted our two children to be with me, and at the same time didn’t want to see anyone. Everything felt heavy. Life lost its color.

It was complicated grief.

Then, February came. A new month. A new beginning. Yes, it sounds cliche. I picked up the camera again as I desperately searched for ways to occupy my mind (the “365 days of pictures” project was abandon weeks before already). The camera became another world for me to escape to. An alternate reality of sorts. Where I could freeze moments and emotions that I wanted, and delete the ones I didn’t want to feel.

So I kept taking pictures.

And more.

And I didn’t want it to end. I compulsively would take pictures for hours on end. Every day. Everywhere. Watching our kids interact with themselves, with the dog, with me and my husband. I became lost in creating. And I loved it.

The gift of grief grew to become my love of picking up a camera. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was memorializing our kids’ childhood. For not only the kids we have alive on this earth, but the child we had to say goodbye to before she took her first breath. It has become a form of therapy and healing for me to make images for our family and for others. It slows me down and teaches me to live in the moment. To block out the noise of every day life. It makes me smile, carrying me through some days where I don’t feel like smiling. It’s added another sensory layer to my life that makes me feel more alive. It fills me up to experience special milestones of families that I’ve had the treasure to share a photo session with. It’s a small gift I give to my children, myself, and to you.

I thank you for being here, and allowing the opportunity to share my story. My “why” for ever having picked up a camera in the first place. For there are beautiful moments to be found amidst between both our darkest and joyous times. And I hope this gift of photography can bridge a meaningful connection between myself and your story.

I’m ready to hear yours.

Be well,

Katie

Why do I pick up a camera & other musings

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