For photographer Rachel Ambroson, photography is a therapeutic tool that helped her climb out of a dark place and find her light. Using her camera, Rachel was able to begin healing after the trauma of her daughter Olivia’s cancer diagnosis. In her story below, Rachel talks about why photographing through the pain was healing to her, and why telling the whole story is important. She also shares her tips for using photography as therapy.
When everything changed
Like many parents, my love for photography grew after I had my first child, a sweet girl we named Olivia. Not long after her birth, someone kindly gifted me their old Canon DSLR. I had no idea how to use a “real” camera and have at least 10,000 wildly out of focus images from Olivia’s first year of life to prove it.
That same precious baby was diagnosed with cancer at 19 months old. It was earth shattering to say the least. Our life was suddenly divided in two by this singular traumatic event; the life we had before cancer, and the life we led after cancer.
Images of our life before evoke strong memories and feelings; the newness of our marriage, the excitement of becoming parents for the first time, and the comfort we had found in our home. I can go back to those moments and be thankful that we ever knew a time so simple.
Photography led me out of a dark place.
I didn’t pick up my camera much right after Olivia was diagnosed. I was certain that I didn’t want to remember any of that. I was drowning in chaos and confusion and hormones (pregnant with baby #2) and was desperate to get my head above the water.
My need to document and create eventually led me out of a dark place. I began to recognize that even the hard parts of our story need to be told — maybe most especially the hard parts.
“The art is driven by a need to be seen, even if I am the only one looking.”
Photography is my refuge.
In the years since her treatment ended, I have grappled with PTSD and anxiety. I tried self soothing with empty things but those things naturally left me feeling emptier. I eventually turned back to photography as therapy.
I read mountains of tutorials and took workshops through Click Photo School and learned how to use my camera. I found such peace in creating. I began to take notice of the world around me and literally started to see the light. I could get lost in editing a single portrait of one of my children.
The shift in focus and having something that belonged to me was absolutely healing. The trauma doesn’t go away but photography allowed me a way to leave the hurt and frustration behind for a little bit — to express myself in a way that made some sort of sense to me, without even having to speak a word.
When I pour over an image, my mind settles, my feelings lay bare. The picture I made may visually not even represent my state of mind, but the process of creating is always connected to it. The art is driven by a need to be seen, even if I am the only one looking.
Photography is my refuge, an art that has evolved from the conflict of being stuck and desperately wanting to move forward.
The whole story matters.
Photos are sometimes all we have left of the time before. The way her hair looked before chemo made it all fall out, and the beautiful ringlets that eventually grew back.
I have this grainy cell phone picture that my husband snapped as we were leaving one of many radiation sessions. Olivia is wrapped up in my arms, both of us awkwardly strapped to a gurney. We had to take an ambulance to and from the children’s hospital to the radiation oncology facility, four trips per day, over the span of four days.
That day, the paramedics let me sit with her on the gurney because she just needed me. The ambulance was decorated with Christmas lights. It was cold and the streets were glistening with fresh rain. When I look at that picture, I can still feel her weight on my hugely pregnant belly, our exhaustion, and the mix of anguish and hope that always lingered.
That image takes me right back there and I’m thankful for it, even though we were all deeply hurting. We were together and that’s all that really mattered.
We are here.
Olivia has no memory of that time, thankfully. We carry that for her. She can look at the images and see it all unfold. I think as she gets older, this visual story will become more important to her. Survivorship comes with its own set of complications and there is so much yet for her to process and come to terms with.
She is now eight years out from her bone marrow transplant and is thriving. We were able to meet her bone marrow donor a few years ago (our hero) and she even got to be the flower girl in his wedding. That was like a dream come true. Things are not always easy though. She has to take growth hormone due to thyroid damage and had to have cataracts removed from both of her eyes due to radiation treatments.
These are not the last survivorship obstacles she will face and we have some difficult conversations ahead of us. I will be there with her every step of the way and will continue to find my own solace in the creative process.
Photography as therapy: 4 tips to help you heal
1. Don’t put pressure on yourself to create. Take a time out if you need to. For me, this meant not touching my camera for a few weeks. Give yourself loads of grace. If it feels like work, it’s not what you need to be focusing on.
2. Perfection is not your friend. We spent 40 nights in a hospital with bad lighting, minimal sleep, and a very sick child. Most of my pictures from that time are not award winners. I used the camera I had with me, which was often a first generation iPad (hello grain and motion blur). I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.
I have precious photos of me comforting my child like only a mother can, of the sunset out her hospital room window on the night of her transplant, of her last chemo infusion, of all the machines and lines and tubes connected to her little body that were keeping her alive, and of us smiling through the pain. None of these photos are technically anywhere near perfect but they still matter.
3. Take a walk and open your eyes to the world around you. It is a relief to find something else to focus on. I started to see things in a new way and I haven’t looked back.
4. Share your art and your experience (if you feel comfortable doing so). I guarantee you that somebody out there can relate to you. You might just be a lifeline for them, and they for you.
Photos by Rachel Ambroson
More on photographing life’s struggles and difficult times:
The struggle is real: How letting go of perfect can help you photograph what matters
Why taking a break from photography can be good for you
Is perfectionism holding you back from being the artist you were meant to be?
5 Game-changing tips for photographing children with special needs and their families
You are such a beautiful person…this story to me is so clarifying. I absolutely know why your work spoke to me so when I first saw it. There is an actual physical pull to your photography. I feel it in the photos you’ve captured of my family. The story of life, good and bad, captured to be visited again and again to help us connect the past with our present and guide us to a hopefully better future. Thank you so much for sharing your story.
You all have been one of my absolute favorite families to photography because I know you get it! Thank you for allowing me to capture your precious memories. <3
Thank you. You are so right. Photography is therapy. I just lost my mom on September 28, 2019. I was/am so lost and sad. I finally picked up my camera one day and it has truly been therapy for me. Life is too short, I don’t want to miss a moment. I don’t want to miss what is in front and around me.
I am so sorry for your loss. I hope that you continue to find comfort in the creative process. <3
Rachel – You’re a true artist. At photography and writing, clearly, but also in the art of living with grace and joy. Thank you for sharing your gifts. Love you!
Thank you. Love you too. <3
Rachel, you are such a beautiful soul. Thank you for sharing pieces of your journey with us. So much love and light to you.
Thank you Amanda. <3
Such a great article – I appreciate your raw honesty. And your work is absolutely beautiful. My brain cancer warrior is my favorite muse and every picture I have of her and my other children matters. ❤️
Thank you so much. And yes, yes – I absolutely agree! They all matter. <3
Your words are profound. I understand the trauma that comes from having a child with a terminal illness. I am happy you are finding ways to help relieve the anxieties that come with the uncertainty of each new day. Your photography is beautiful! I hope one day I can meet Olivia.
I know you know this feeling all too well. I will never forget you reaching out to me in the very beginning. You were such a light and gave me so much hope which was something I desparately needed. I hope one day we can meet too. <3
Beautifully written. I remember that time well and anticipating all of your updates, praying hard for your family and our sweet Olivia. I’m proud to know you even if I’ve never actually met you.
November WTE mommy.
You guys were such a light during that hard time. So thankful for all of your support through the years!
You have created beautiful images with your “therapy,” as well as with your words. Amazing.
Thank you so much!
Beautiful!
Thank you!
Rachel, your beautiful story was inspiring. Going through those months with a very sick child was beyond heart breaking. When I think of those days it still breaks my heart. Your photography reflects the beauty that you see and that is amazing. You are so very talented and I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you. I am so happy that this has helped you cope with the difficult times. I love you sweet girl❤️
Thank you for all of your support. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. Love you.
Love reading more about your journey! I met Rachel through wte November 2009 mommy group and Olivia’s diagnosis hit us all so hard. I remember those days with such heartbreak and we weren’t even the ones going through it. Since then, I have watched Rachel’s amazing family grow through Facebook and have had the honor of seeing all her amazing photos and seeing Olivia and their whole family thrive with love and support. Rachel truly is an amazing woman.
Thank you Ashley. Your support and encouragement through the years has meant so much to me, along with all of the other ladies from our November 2009 group. Such a blessing.
Your writing paints a picture just as your photography tells a story. I would love to figure out how to really use my nikon, but anxiety prevails and I stick to easy shots. After reading this, I think I will give it another try. Thanks for sharing your story and artwork.
Jessica, I am so glad to hear you say this. I think sometimes we read or see something at the right time that gives us the push we need to do the uncomfortable things. I believe that is where growth happens. I’d love to see what you create! Thank you for reading.