In the middle of the grey concrete parking lot, next to the hospital, the lead photographer comforted me. “That was hard,” they said. “It’s OK if you changed your mind. It’s OK if you don’t want to do this.”
I was still processing when they added, “it’s not for everyone.”
It was the first time in my life I had seen a baby that was no longer alive. He weighed 9 pounds, 6 ounces. The ambient window light cascaded off his gorgeous plump skin and onyx tendrils swirled on the crown of his head. He had soft, squishy baby cheeks and was bundled in a plain white hospital-issued cotton onesie — the kind with sewn-in mitten flaps on the sleeves.
The lead photographer leaned over and whispered to him, “hello sweet baby,” as they pulled the camera’s viewfinder to their eye. I watched as they created a small selection of photos with different angles of this precious baby. They gestured for me to create my own images if I wanted to, but my nerves shook my arms as I took my first two pictures, both underexposed and out of focus.
My mind played tricks on me, as I struggled with the eternal acceptance that this baby did not have a heartbeat. He looked just like a beautifully sleeping baby. I kept imagining he would take a breath.
Feeling like a complete imposter, I made exposure adjustments, took a breath and thought to myself, “Please let me honor this baby.”
It took me an entire year before I summoned the courage to submit an application to Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep (NILMDTS). Drawn to the love that exists between a parent and their newborn baby, it was impossible to ignore the message calling to my heart. Despite wondering if it might be too hard, if I could handle it, I decided I could show up.
If using my photographic talent could help a parent tell their baby’s story, then I wanted to be brave.
It only took meeting one baby to recognize that the gift of remembrance photography is powerfully important for the parents coping with a mountain of days ahead.
“…every image is a first and last.”
A few hours after that first NILMDTS session, I answered my phone to a very worried voice. The lead photographer’s memory card had malfunctioned and the images were gone. The baby had already been transferred to the funeral home and there was absolutely no going back to create more images of this precious baby.
The weight of this moment, the importance of serving loss families, had me doubled over at my desk as I criticized myself for letting my nerves get the best of me. Maybe I wasn’t capable of this. Maybe I’d never forgive myself for only creating one portrait. Because that third image — the one I took after steadying my nerves and making camera adjustments — that was the last photo I took.
This moment carved a path in the way I approach remembrance photography: Every image is a first and last.
Of course I had regrets, but I used them as a foundation to move forward and set my nerves on a shelf outside the hospital room doorway of each new session I take on. Because sometimes, one image can carry a person.
Three years later, I was talking with an older woman who shared that she had lost her son shortly after his birth. “I wish Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep was around back then,” she said. Counting on her fingers, she whispered numbers to herself and then said to me, “My son would have been 39 years old this year. I’d give anything for just one photo.”
I became a member of NILMDTS in 2008, when the organization was three years old.
Back then, when people asked me what type of photographs I took, I’d selectively share that I am part of a special nonprofit organization that provides remembrance photography for the families of babies that don’t get to go home.
To those that I didn’t feel could handle the truth, I’d share short phrases like, “I document love.”
But now, when I’m asked about the type of photographer I am, I don’t shy away from the beauty of dying and grief. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep has opened a door for families to speak of their baby and to share about everlasting love. And as they continue to educate people on the importance of remembrance photography, they are softening the social stigma of baby loss.
We are empowering generational growth and allowing a safe space for women of all ages to talk about infant loss openly and honestly.
I’ve learned so many life altering lessons through volunteering for Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.
I was about an hour into serving a loss family and was feeling like I had created a solid collection of images for them when I asked if there were any final image requests. Emotionally exhausted, everyone shook their heads. But while I was packing my camera gear into its case, the baby’s mother asked me if I felt I had taken enough images of her baby. My hand stopped mid zip. Taking several moments, really thinking about her question I mentally rolled through the shot list of images I had just created for her — of her perfectly beautiful daughter — and I felt her worry. She was facing the agonizing truth that soon she’d have to leave the hospital, and her baby would not be going home. I softly admitted, “A million would never be enough.”
The bereaved know that love is not measured in time. Grief gets tucked away in a pocket, teetering on spilling out at unannounced moments. We have learned that the loss of a baby, the trauma of grief, alters the nervous system. Memories can become foggy. Did baby have a nose like dad, and eyelashes like mom? Having a photo is so important for remembering those details.
Leaving the hospital without their baby is heartbreakingly difficult. Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep photographers try to offer parents some small measure of comfort in knowing they can see their baby again, if only in photographs.
Through portraiture, we are helping families share, remember and honor their baby’s legacy. We are validating the proof of existence.
This year, that baby boy with the onyx locks and pillowy soft cheeks would have been 14 years old. We count the years too. I have never forgotten him or the 106 other babies I’ve met since. My heart has been filled in places I didn’t know existed.
If you feel called to use your photographic talent to honor those babies who won’t ever get to go home, I urge you to apply. The application process only takes a few minutes. It is important work.
Remembrance photography through Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep is easily the most important type of photograph that I will ever create. We go into the hospital room thinking that we are there to help someone else, and in turn we walk out a better human being.
The truth is, I didn’t expect a return, but the honor of this work is unmatched.
Photos by Sarah Love
This is a monumental devotional to this organization and to all of us who see it as you do. May your words pull in more photographers who are willing to test the waters and feel the love from parents & families ❤️
This is a very beautiful piece by Sarah. It almost lives up to the person I know off the page. I am so blessed to call Sarah my friend. NILMDTS and the families she serves are blessed by her commitment, dedication and considerable talent.