Mom's Stunning Photography Sheds Light on Miscarriage and Infant Loss

"In December 2013, I gave birth to our firstborn, a son, who was stillborn. My life pivoted when I returned home with my husband, completely empty-armed. But it didn't stop me from trying everything in my power to continue to nurture my life without him. I wanted to be able to be the best mother I could be. Embracing motherhood without my baby was my goal, and I never looked back.

Loss doesn't make you any less of a mother. It's hard for people to understand this concept, I feel, and further understand that the loss does not define me or my body or how I feel about myself when I wake up. I wish and hope to be able to show that women who have had a loss like I have can embrace their children and themselves, and that they can also look upon their experience and learn from it instead of running away."

"I am a member of the club. Nobody wants to be a part of this club. No one speaks of it, but in seconds, just like that, you are a member. I didn't even consider a club like this. I was naïve.

. . . It is different, the loss of a child, from losing any other loved one. I'm not saying the loss of another loved one is not of importance. Just . . . different. Losing a child will always be there. Different days, a different kind of grief.

I am grieving the loss of the future. Things I will never do with her, moments I will never have with her. Qualities I will never discover about her. Holidays spent missing her. The list goes on. Everyone — mainly friends, and relatives who don't understand — keeps telling me I can just get pregnant again and have another baby. But what they will never understand is that I wanted that pregnancy. I wanted that baby. . . .

Don't feel sorry for me, or feel uncomfortable when I talk about my child. Every time
I have the chance to talk about her, yes, it makes me miss her, but I believe I am honoring her just by the mention of her name. Do not be afraid to say her name. I'm not afraid to hear it. I might cry, but they are tears of love and joy that you remembered her.

So the club I was telling you about. It is the 'I lost a child' club. I am a member. I am the one-in-four women who has lost a child during pregnancy or as an infant. Break the silence of my quiet club."

"I love my C-section scar. In fact, I'm probably in the minority because I refused to birth my baby without a C-section. He was our third baby and a miracle in every way.

At fifteen weeks, a scan showed that my baby appeared to have something on his kidneys. We had a Level two ultrasound and found out our baby had a birth defect called posterior urethral valves. . . . we went through an amnio and three vesicocenteses only to be told that even though our son's kidneys looked beautiful, the tests on them said otherwise and he wasn't worth the surgery. How anyone can determine whether my son's life is worth saving but me and God, I will always wonder.

We were advised to terminate, and told any good parent in that situation would do so. The thought made me sick. I had two children already, and he was just as much my child as they were. After many tears and prayers, we decided to transfer our care and begin to accept the idea that our baby would die after birth. How do you accept the fact that a growing baby inside will just die after he is born?

I went about two days deciding I didn't want to talk about my baby and just wanted to pretend he didn't exist. But I couldn't do it. I loved him. I wanted him. If wanting him and loving him meant that I would only have him to mother for nine months, then I would be the best mother I could be. I talked to him, sang to him, and created memories with him, including the sad ones like picking out a funeral space at thirty weeks pregnant.

Then, at thirty-four weeks, his time came. I went into labor. We made it to the hospital with just enough time to get me prepped for a C-section. Why not a vaginal delivery? I felt like my only hope to see him alive was to get him out quickly. He may not survive through the birth canal. My one wish was to gaze into his eyes. For his last breath to be me holding him, knowing only love. When he was born . . . he was kept on life support while we spent time with him, had pictures taken, and called our family and friends up to meet our sweet boy.

After three and a half hours, we made the heart-wrenching decision to remove him from life support, a decision that took years to accept and that occasionally still pops into my head. Matthew — our 'Gift from God' — died silently in my arms. . . . I still have my scar, a beautiful piece of him with me, always."

"This was my first pregnancy and my husband and I were ecstatic. We found out the baby was to be a little boy, and we decided to name him Valen. . . . My labor lasted close to eighteen hours. It was horribly painful, but I knew it would be worth it. Throughout my labor my blood pressure was extremely high, so much so that they thought I would have a seizure. Then as it was time to push, Valen's heart rate began to drop. . . .

When they took him out, call it a mother's instinct, but I just knew and felt something was not right. They immediately tried to get him to breathe after having cut the cord. It was within a matter of minutes that they all seemed to be panicking. I could see my husband, mother, and mother-in-law all around me with their heads in their hands. As I lay on the bed being stitched up, I could see my son being worked on. Something inside of me said to call for him, so I yelled to Valen to wake up, over and over, but to no avail. . . .

When they were finally able to intubate him, it had been almost fifteen minutes and, although I did not know the specifics at the time, he was most likely brain dead. The next two days I had this hope that some miracle would be pulled off, and my son would be saved, so I really did not feel too much sadness. . . . When they told me that he was truly brain dead and that most of his organs were failing, I knew I had to accept it.

We went to the children's hospital with family to take him off the life support. There were so many tubes and wires all around his tiny body that all I wanted was for him to not be in any more pain. The nurses took all the tubes out and wrapped him in a blanket, so we could hold him. The nurses said he still had a heartbeat. He was so beautiful! I wanted to hold him forever. . . .

Losing a child forever changes who you are as a person. It is as if the hand of God reaches down and grabs your soul, shaking off your body and possessions. It will forever change the way in which you view the world. You see things through the eyes of someone that knows what true love is and what it really means. In rising through the ashes of life it leads you to the enlightenment of the soul."