Amy

When I was fourteen years old, my mom had a baby.  She was beautiful.  She had big eyes and peach-fuzz hair and perfect little hands.

As soon as she was born, the doctors and nurses could tell something was wrong.  There wasn't a newborn intensive-care unit at that hospital, so she was rushed to Children's Hospital in Oakland.  There they told my parents that there was nothing they could do to help her.  She spent her whole two-day life there, hooked up to a respirator, the only way she could breathe.

I'll never forget those two days.  We all held her and loved her and cried and prayed together.  It was hard to grasp.  This baby we'd anticipated for nine months wasn't going to grow up with the rest of us kids.  She would never learn to walk or swim or ride a bike...never sing or love or have her own children.

We named her Amy.  It means "Beloved".

It's been a long time, but I still think about Amy and miss her.  I'm looking forward to seeing her again in heaven, with our Lord Jesus, who made her and loves her...and I'm sure she can't wait till the rest of her family gets there!


We didn't know a whole lot about photography, but we did our best with the Minolta SLR we had, during the two days of Amy's life.  I treasure the prints from those few rolls of film.  Amy is gone; but the memories and photos are still here.

Now, years later, as I've become a photographer, that experience has colored how I view my work.  Every image is a long-term investment.  It might be as simple as a pretty flower, or as gripping as a baby with only hours left to live.  The moment you click the shutter, you hold time still.  That moment will never be experienced again.  But you have the photograph to keep the moment with you.

Yesterday I went with another photographer to the intensive-care floor of a San Francisco hospital where a baby was dying.  We took photos of him, and his parents with him.  They will forever treasure these keepsakes of the precious life that was given to them for just a short time.

The photographer I went with is a member of Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep, an organization started by a photographer and mother who had a similar experience.  This is their mission statement: "To introduce remembrance photography to parents suffering the loss of a baby with the free gift of professional portraiture.  We believe these images serve as an important step in the family's healing process by honoring their child's legacy."  I'll be going to a day-long training with NILMDTS next Monday and I'm looking forward to doing more portrait sessions for these families.

God doesn't make mistakes; but we live in a fallen world, and tragic things happen.  As a photographer I treasure the opportunity to use my skills to help comfort grieving families and honor the child God gave them...even if it was only for a fleeting moment.

- Kelsey Schweickert


Discovering beauty...

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