Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything
What’s standing in front of me
Has come to this
I stepped into her photography studio, silk and lace and heels tucked cautiously away optimistically apprehensive.
After 3 years it was time.
To feel sexy again, to feel empowered.
These boudoir photos were as much a gift to myself as they were to my unknowing husband.
Losing a baby somehow strips away your womanhood.
I was here to reclaim it.
And I knew Sunny would make me look beautiful, I had no doubt.
She sees beauty as I do now.
Me, and her, and you.
Broken wombs, broken families, broken hearts.
Still beautiful nonetheless.
Some people come into our lives for significant reasons we can’t quite explain when our paths first cross.
That was Sunny
One of my first photography students.
A ray of light, as I sought healing and fought to re-discover who I was, after Bella.
SIDs took her first born away.
But still connected.
As we both expressed hope, healing, and love through a camera.
Today the teacher had become the student.
We were the same two souls now as we were during that beginner’s photography class 3 years ago.
And on this day, as I underwent my own transformation of makeup, and heels, and silk and lace, I was all too aware of the entirety of our connectedness.
There I sat, exposed and awkwardly aware of my beauty and vulnerability.
But, her confidence and her light slowly seeped into by bones and became my own.
And, that’s when the magic happened.
As she effortlessly snapped pose after pose, she transitioned me into one where she wanted to feature my tattoo.
My Rose. My Bella.
The place where I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Only she would know it’s importance.
The magnitude of it’s significance.
And then, in that same moment these lyrics began playing on the radio:
I have died everyday
Waiting for you
Darlin’ don’t be afraid
I have loved you for a
I’ll love you for a
I crumpled into a mess of tears.
Oh I was a sight to behold.
An exposed wreck of grief, connectedness, inspiration, love, grace, and delicate wholeness.
That’s where I felt beautiful. I was beautiful. I was me.
And I was reminded there in Sunny’s embrace that we can’t escape grief.
Even 3 years later it remains.
It always remains.
But, it makes us beautifully whole too.