Grief, Loss, Love & Wedding Photography
Photography by Full of Whimsy Photography
Sharing some really vulnerable thoughts today and please know it’s about some sensitive, deeply personal subjects, pertaining to pregnancy loss and grief before you decide whether you’d like to read ❤️
I guess the best place to start with a post like this is an explanation on the last couple of years for our family. In less than two years time we have lost a baby and both of my husband’s parents (at age 64 and 66). I mention my in-laws age as a reference point for the kind of processing that has come with this because, although we all know that time with our parents is finite, I think we can probably agree that in the modern age of medicine and technology we all make the assumption that we will have longer… that we’ll have more holidays, vacations, FaceTime calls… more time with loved ones. I also want to begin with calling out that I’ve done a lot of work to come to a place where I can say “this season has been hard.” For anyone who knows me I believe I am someone who works hard to create space for others to FEEL. Regardless of the magnitude of other’s struggles or loss, when it comes to experiencing human emotions in the context of our own lives I think comparing and justifying one’s experiences to someone else’s is just unnecessary. We can feel like our world and walk is hard while acknowledging that there are always people out there experiencing hard times, too - I have to catch myself when I think of other’s “harder” times. Transparently, I am always the one to quickly jump in and validate unique experiences, and I’m owning that I should probably do it for myself and our family as well and especially in this season. While holding the global perspective that it really could always be much worse, and that while most things are solvable in life, some things simply aren’t and never will be.
And finally, let it be known that through it all I attempt to put the most time and effort into celebrating the wins, love, successes and triumphs of those around me regardless of our own suffering, hardships and trials. I mean that genuinely. I never want someone to dim their light, hide their happy, or lessen their celebration out of concern for our well-being or feelings in our own grief. It’s possibly why I find my job as a wedding photographer to have brought me so much fulfillment in a season of such personal loss, because capturing the best days for other families while we have walked through some of our absolute worst puts the whole world in perspective. Grief and joy can, and often do, coexist. And perhaps that's just the beauty of human experience if you are open to it. And now, onward…
My sister and brother in law now know all of this (in case you’re reading this and wondering how I could share something so publicly that we kept so private for a season), but we often think back to my SIL’s wedding and remember the incredible day that it was and the way that it brought our family together. What we didn’t know at the time was that my father in law would pass away unexpectedly just a few months after her wedding.
What was also going on for myself, Andrew and Jane at the time was that we’d just found out our second baby no longer had a heartbeat. I’d gone for an ultrasound and heard the most beautiful sound of a healthy heartbeat only to return a couple of weeks later (this time with Jane in tow) with a small concern that I tried to push away. It was the day I gave Jane chocolate milk for the first time and it’s just WILD what your brain remembers in trauma. I went into that appointment occupying myself with occupying my toddler - a seat, a snack, and her first ever cup of chocolate milk. I set her up and interacted with the Dr., the Dr. voiced concerns, confirmed concerns…
and I turned to Jane and asked her how her chocolate milk was.
In that moment I was terrified and sad. Lonely and angry. But I was also completely devastated that Jane was there and all I could think about was how to protect her from the intense pain that blanketed the room. So I fixated on the freaking chocolate milk - to this day I’m still a little triggered on the rare occasion I make her chocolate milk. It’s sadly lost a little bit of its innocence as a delicious childhood drink. Several minutes later after leaving the office I safely strapped her in her seat, closed the door and walked to the back of the car out of view to call Andrew to tell him to come home.
The next day we were on our way out the door to begin celebrating my incredible SIL & BIL’s wedding. Andrew and Jane went outside to cut some fresh blue hydrangeas only to step in a ground nest of wasps and for them both to be basically covered in stings as Andrew came running around the corner of the garage yelling and carrying Jane only to get inside and realize they had made their way in his jeans as well. Fantastic. Needless to say my body was at a maximum level of adrenaline and I was walking around in a bit of a fog.
The next couple of days I did my absolute best to hold it together. I was a bridesmaid, mom to the flower girl, and photographer for bits and pieces of the day with a hired associate - thank goodness for incredible friends in the industry. Only 2 or 3 people knew what was going on for us as we obviously didn’t want our sadness to be woven into the memories from the day.
I’ve had moments of “why did we have to lose our baby THIS weekend?” (As if anything would have possibly made another weekend less of a tragedy and less devastating and life changing… it definitely wouldn’t have). But the more distance we gain from their wedding the more I appreciate that in the depths of our sorrow, even though they didn’t know, we were surrounded by more love than we could understand or have been around on a more “normal” weekend. My second baby in some way got to be with my father in law and our family because of the nature of the wedding weekend, and being in the wedding party, I have actual professional photos of me carrying our second baby - something I frankly *never* would have sought out otherwise. There’s a kind of peace and simple recognition of life that comes with that. It was also one of the hardest weekends of my life as we traveled back from NY and I was straight back to another wedding in CT and then medical appointments after that. Also making note without going into too much detail to all of the women/couples/families who have experienced pregnancy loss, miscarriage, infertility, the loss of a baby/child/little one and any other struggle that comes with seeking parenthood - there is so much that goes on behind the scenes that breaks you in so many ways and I want to call that out and say…. you’re strong. You also have no obligation to ever share or talk about it with anyone that you do not wish to, for whatever reason, while at the same time have every right to give voice to your struggles and journey in any way you can. My door is personally open for anyone who needs to talk about any of it.
It breaks my heart that Jane has had to experience and walk through so much grief in her short existence. Just a few months after our pregnancy loss we would be explaining to her the unepxected death of her Pappy. I try so hard to remind myself of all of this when she’s experiencing big emotions. Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with my big feelings, how can I really expect my 4 year old to process anything that’s happened? When I woke to my husband taking a call in the middle of the night to discuss the DNR with his siblings, well, there really aren’t words to describe the horror of that night. We got Jane in the car and as I drove us to the hospital in NY it was while we were driving that we got the call and I will never forget the words of my husband from the backseat as he held Jane’s hand and said, “Take your time and drive carefully. There’s no rush anymore.”
Pulling over at a rest stop and holding my husband on the side of the road… Nothing prepares you for that or the conversation we were having with Jane just an hour or two later as we arrived at Grammy and Pappy’s house and it all started to sink in that he wasn’t coming home. We felt strongly about being clear and honest with Jane about death in the early days, as hard as that was, we wanted her to know certain things to be true: He isn’t coming back, he loved all of us and didn’t choose to not be here (feelings of abandonment are tough with a 2 year old), he isn’t “sleeping” and he wasn’t gone because of something that was contagious or would make anyone else in our family sick. But, dang, what a terrible conversation to walk through. Those first couple of weeks after loss like that are hard to put into words.
And a year a half later, just a couple of months ago, my mother in law fought relapsed lymphoma and ultimately lost her life fighting. I am grateful our family was able to be with her in her final hours, but we are all grieving and continue to process the events and weeks leading up to her passing - the heaviness and reality of being with her in her last hours make it such that I don’t have much more to share here. We are grieving and there’s no way out of it except through it. We are continually grateful that she was able to meet our son and we hope both of our children are able to help carrying on the stories of Grammy and Pappy as we move forward into a life without them.
If loss and grief have taught me anything it’s that life really is short. Do the thing. Take the trip. Hold your loved ones. It all sounds so cliche typing it out but it’s just so gosh darn true. Don’t leave this world with regrets and don’t take the risk of your loved ones leaving this world having regrets that you should have lived or loved differently. I also move through life now assuming everyone is fighting hidden battles and do my best to proceed with grace and kindness. Even the sunniest days can feel hard against the backdrop of some of life’s struggles and a lot of those struggles are really heavy to carry.
As a wedding photographer witnessing some of the most beautiful days of celebration and having couples who have lost loved ones since their own wedding days I’ve been giving a lot of thought to “what is the cost of not investing in photography” and although there’s some assumed bias with my title of “wedding photographer”, I really do feel the purpose of my work deep in my soul. It’s at the core of who I am and it drives me to always aim to hone my craft, better my workflows, perfect the experience I deliver, invest in my education, in my gear, and in my clients. I want your time with me to feel like a once in a lifetime experience. And I hope that as I continue to move in the direction of a legacy photographer it actually won’t be a once in a lifetime and that I’ll have the honor of walking through life with you and your family - no matter the composition, the struggles, the triumphs, the wins and losses. I’ve already had the privilege of walking the journey with many of my couples and it such an honor. I want to walk through it all with you with a camera in hand to help you see, whether it’s today or 10 years from now, that the season you’re in deserves documentation. Period the end, without question.
It’s also the reason designing and printing wedding albums with my couples is a primary aspect and focus of my business (but that’s a conversation I’ll save a bit for another day). It’s no sales pitch for me, just an offer and agreement with my couples that we are going to put in the time to conclude our time together with a tangible product that will go with them into the next season of life.
Alright, that’s all for now friends. If you read this far I want to thank you for being open to vulnerable topics and for being a part of the incredible community that has helped our family walk through this season ✨