lavender love

Continuing on through the rainbow, we leave the blues and head into purples. Today the lighter shade of lavender. When I saw that my name happened to fall on this day and this color I was beyond thrilled. I knew just what my post would be.  See my son, he is a quiet shy tender boy.  He loves what he loves, and he loves those things with all his heart. He has carried around this lavender blanket since he was tiny. This is actually the second incarnation of the same blanket because he loved the first one to pieces, literally. When he was very small I would sneak into his room at night to watch him asleep in his crib. I would find him with his head completely wrapped in his blanket.  I would carefully unravel him from it and place it on top of his sleeping smallness.  Within 30 minutes he would have his head wrapped right back up in it. Eventually I figured out he could breathe and was not smothering himself and just let him sleep that way. When he grew up a little bit, you could always tell when we was tired because he would have his blanket in his hand and chew and chew and chew on the poor thing, twisting and chewing it. (hence the need for a new one) He took it EVERYWHERE.  We did not leave the house without it. It just became a part of him.  He and "purple" (the name of the blanket) just went together. He is not greedy about it either, if you are sick or tired, or hurting, or sad,  he will go and gather "purple" wherever it may be and he will bring it to you. It gives him great comfort, so of course it will bring the same comfort to you.  Makes perfect sense. He often says, "purple is magic" and I believe it is. When he left for kindergarten I was terribly heartsick.  I missed his little face, those curls, not being able to touch or kiss or hug him for those hours felt like an eternity to me.  What did I do?  I got purple and I laid on that blanket and breathed in the scent of my little boy. 

He is growing up. Lately the signs are more and more obvious that the baby in him is being replaced by sharp angles and lost teeth. Though with all of this proof, he is still that tender hearted little boy. He still sleeps with purple. He still carries purple to the couch and to the table. If he is sick he holds onto purple extra tight. Purple still brings comfort when he gets hurt. I have so many photos of my boy and his beloved blanket. I cherish those photos, I cherish that blanket. I am ever grateful that he finds comfort in that piece of fuzzy lavender fabric. It helps him feel safe and secure, how can anything that does that ever be anything but loved.

A few weeks ago he went to his very first sleep over, naturally I gathered up the blanket and packed it with his things. He told me he was afraid to be teased and wanted to leave it at home.  I was shocked, and sad, and also worried that come bedtime he would regret his choice and really really wish he had it. I asked a few times before we left the house if he was absolutely sure he didn't want to take it along, just in case, he said he was sure. Off he went, and for the very first time ever, "purple" stayed behind. He made it the whole night, I wonder if he missed it at all, or perhaps that time has come and the letting go is beginning.That will be such a strange day. When that day comes, I will box it up and save it with the many special mementos of childhood (or maybe stuff it under my pillow for awhile).... But between you and me?  I hope "purple" sticks around a little while longer.    :)

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Capture something lavender in your lens. Tag it #sscolormonth, add it here in the comments AND in our OWP pool on Flickr.

weekending by jessica new fuselier

Jessica New Fuselier shoots images like this with her iPhone and spends her weekends seeking magic.

Jesscia can be found at DisneySisters, at Fresh Angeles, on Facebook or on instagram at @jessicafuselier & @disneysisters. 

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What magic are you making this weekend? Share with us (and email your shot) and we'll feature you here.

Every Child Deserves a Shot@Life

Today marks the launch of the United Nation Foundation's Shot@Life campaign. Tracey and I are excited to support Shot@Life and their mission to provide much-needed vaccines to children around the world.

I think about my own children and the relative ease I have here in the United States to get the vaccines I need to protect them from preventable diseases. I'm aware of the options and can access information about vaccines to make an informed decision on behalf of my children. I can afford the costs of vaccines. I have a pediatrician I trust. And I have the means to transport my children to obtain the vaccines we need. This is privilege. One in five children around the world don't have access to life-saving vaccines in developing countries, so they need our help. For just $5, you can protect a child from polio and measles. For just $20 you can help give a child a lifetime of immunity to protect him or her from pneumonia, diarrhea, measles, and polio. To help give a child a Shot@Life, I hope you'll join us here.

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An added note from Tracey:

Thanks to all of you who are using your photography to support Shot at Life! The collection of images for our #shot4shot project is awesome. Take a peek here and keep up the amazing work! You are appreciated.

My Medicine

Last weekend, my son had and allergic reaction and went into anaphlyaxis.  I rushed him to the hospital where I was quickly pushed aside while an ER team immediately began working on him and ultimately, putting him on a ventilator. Once it was done and I could see even the doctor give a sigh of relief, my husband and I then awaited the arrival of the critical care team from our local children's hospital to transport him.  It was then that I began to document what was happening in photos.  I needed to.  I've said many times that my camera has been my saving grace. I couldn't do anything else at that time and it was the only thing I felt I had any control over. 

Fortunately, my son made a quick and complete recovery and once we were home, I uploaded my photos into a set on Flickr.  I wanted to share them and I was hesitant at first because I wasn't sure how people would respond to the rawness of the photos, but I wanted, needed, for others to see, to understand.   I then shared them on a Facebook allergy page that I follow regularly.  The owner of the page contacted me and asked if she could share them with others because she thought it was important to do so.  I said yes and didn't give it another thought. 

Immediately my inbox began filling up with messages from people all over the country that I did not know.  Some shared their similar stories with me, others just wanted to tell me that they were glad everything had turned out okay, but all of them thanked me for sharing my photos with them.  It was at that moment that I knew I did the right thing.  As of this writing, those 10 photos have been viewed over 4500 times. 

How many times have you taken a photo that really didn't mean much to you but to someone else it meant so much more?  How many times have you heard, Oh my gosh, I love that photo!  Can I have it?!  I've said many times that I believe everyone brings their own medicine to this world.  Next time one of your photos touches someone, take a moment and realize that perhaps your photography is your medicine, too. 

Today, share those photos that have may have been your medicine...to you or to someone else.

Her Camera

Three years ago I picked up a camera with one goal in mind. We were starting a family and was determined to avoid paying a professional photographer to take photos that I thought I could learn to achieve on on my own. I was quickly bitten by the photography bug and when we fell pregnant on Mother’s Day 2009 everything seemed to be falling into place. I was gifted a brand new Nikon d90 and upon the baby’s arrival I was confident I’d be able to capture beautiful squishy newborn portraits of our bundle of joy.

 I never expected that things would go terribly wrong.

 At our 20 week sonogram a red flags were raised and we were alarmingly referred to a high risk practice to have them investigated. The vivid memories of our trip to that high risk office will haunt me until the day I die. The technician called us back and rushed us through a series of sonogram photos. She was rough on my belly, she pressed a little to intensely, I could feel our baby kick the technician back as if staying “Stop!”. I wanted her to stop too. Finally she left. Minutes dragged on like hours.

Then, the doctor finally walked in and broke the silence with 5 little words that would change our world forever: “Your baby has multiple problems”.

Without stopping for air, he continued to spout out medical jargon about this syndrome and that syndrome. Things we had never even heard of before. He listed off the numerous organs our baby was missing one by one. So cold. So heartless. We left the office numb, dazed, and confused. That evening, as I googled every little snippet of medical jargon our doctor threw around that day I knew what was coming next.

That's when I broke down in a river of tears for the first time.

We sought a 2nd opinion at Children’s Hospital in Washington DC where a fatal diagnosis was confirmed. Our daughter Bella’s defects were 1 in 20,000. No one expects to be the 1 in 20,000, but somehow the devastating baby loss lottery struck us at 20 weeks pregnant.

Our lives were forever changed.

Bella Rose was stillborn on September 11th, 2009. When we arrived home from the hospital empty handed and broken hearted, flowers began to arrive in mass quantities. I was looking to busy my mind and my hands and I sought a way to collect the beauty of Bella’s blooms and preserve them for when I could truly appreciate them. That’s when I remembered I had her camera. The oneI  intended to be used to to take beautiful images of newborn Bella to fill our walls with canvas and framed prints in our home.

Instead, I picked up Bella’s camera after she died and used it to capture a glimpse into my fragile heart. And then, a magical thing happened.

I discovered photography to be an incredible tool in my healing and I started to shift my perspective. I uncovered small bits of beauty in my broken world. I celebrated the little accomplishments, even something a simple as getting out of bed in the morning. I made it my daily meditation to visually express gratitude for what I did still have left in my life. I blogged images and words that revealed my most private feelings of loneliness and failure after losing an unborn child. But, I also shared how photography was allowing me to experience emotions more fully, learn about myself, and heal my soul.

Do you have a special image you’ve taken that has helped you on a healing journey? I’d love it if you’d share it here today. Let’s celebrate the magical powers of photography in soothing our souls when they are hurting.

 Guest blogger, Beryl Ayn Young, serves as chief photography muse over on her personal blog and serves as teacher of the Illuminate Photography e-course, designed especially for moms who have lost a baby due to stillbirth, miscarriage, or infant loss. She believes in nourishing the soul with lifelong learning, photographic healing, & a glass half full perspective. Beryl photography classes and mentoring aimed at teaching you how to improve your camera skills and cherish life’s journey.