memory

I washed my hands and noticed the ink that remained on my left palm. I scrubbed  until only a small blur of one of the babies' names was left visible.
Two tiny boys lay in the bassinet earlier in the day, one with "A" written on the paper-like sheet above his head, and the other with a "B". The nurse told me before I went in the hospital room that they were not named. I asked the mama if she had named her sons, and she nodded and answered while looking at her husband's tear stained face, giving me the names of "Baby A" and "Baby B".  I wanted to make sure, because at sixteen weeks gestation the babies might be confused one for the other, that I provided photographs of each baby to her mother and that years from now she would see the difference in each of her sons. I took a pen from my purse and wrote A and B on my palm with their corresponding names.
I asked Mama if I could touch her babies. I asked her if I could move their tiny hands and feet and tucking a blanket under each I posed them ever so slightly, being cautious to not move them too much. I captured the image of  "Baby A" with feet side by side and "Baby B" with his feet crossed.  I check my f.stop, and my shutter speed, and I adjust light, and I set to work as if I'm in some sort of studio and not in a cold sterile hospital room. Distracted by the pain and by the crying and the empty arms of the family in the room,  I hear my shutter click,  but my mind doesn't seem to be controlling much of it.
I know I didn't take enough photographs. I know that many of what I took aren't the quality due to any client whether they are paying me or not and I'll toss those out. Of course in this case I am not getting paid, yet I feel I owe these parents more than anyone who would hire me for a photo shoot. For these parents I'm capturing not only images, but the only memories they will have of their children. That is all they have of these babies: memories.
As soon as I get to my truck I think of the all the things I didn't do, and all the photographs I didn't take. I think of what I should have done differently, and what I could have done had I given myself more time and the craft more attention. Now that my vision is hindsight, I can focus and think of what I could have done with that shoot, but I won't get another chance to gather visual memories of those twins. I'm there as a photographer, sent by Now I Lay me Down to Sleep to capture images of babies who won't go home so the parents will have portraits of them, to have visual memories of them. But my heart wants to give more- to comfort broken hearts and hold trembling hands. I want to listen to these mamas talk about what they had planned and what they are feeling. I tell every mother of the babies I see that her baby is beautiful and perfect and fearfully and wonderfully made.
When I began volunteering for NILMDTS more than eight years ago, my reason was to provide portraits for families who would not otherwise have them. Now I feel as though my camera is my pass to be with and give comfort to parents who are grieving. My heart is in it one hundred percent, but my head isn't always in full gear as a photographer and this time I leave second guessing my ability.
As I leave the hospital, I misjudge the distance between another truck and my rear bumper. Fortunately, neither bumpers showed any evidence of my carelessness, and so I take another deep breath and back out flawlessly.  But I'm still kicking myself about the what I didn't do in that hospital room. I wonder when- if ever- my head will be fully engaged in a shoot again instead of allowing my heart to lead me, and I'll stay focused on the posing and the shutter speed and the aperture....

 And I wonder when- if ever- my mind will lead me in any part of my life again.
The past three years have been me trying to adjust to life as a single parent and taking care of a house without a partner. There was not time set aside for my heart to heal; life continues and demands that each of us keep moving forward because there are doctor appointments, and bills to pay, and repairmen to call, and relationships to work on. When I have time on my hands I think of what I've done or not done these past few years .... I think of what I should have done differently, and what I could have done had I given myself more time .... and it becomes so easy for me to focus in hindsight on the mistakes I made. My wounded heart was engaged one hundred percent, but my head hasn't been in full gear. I know there is no re-wind button and second chances don't come around. If there was, and if they did, I could make a list of incidents in my relationships in which, if given another chance, I know I'd make different choices, and respond differently to the people I love. I can see so clearly now the mistakes I made, and I've learned from them, but I'm not satisfied. I can't change the memories once they are made and I can't go back and change the images of me  already captured by others based on my past behavior.


It's been a few days since the shoot, and the ink is completely washed from my palm; the names are memories. I have a few beautiful images to send to the parents and I wish I had more, but even if I had ten times as many, it wouldn't be enough. Images- memories- can't replace holding a child and watching him grow.  I believe that the parents will cherish the photographs with the memories of their babies in their hearts though. I know that the love I put into capturing the images of these babies is almost tangible when I look at them. And all I can do is hope that it is enough.