Be a Professional?
As I started out my path to creating albums to honor our loved ones, I never expected this journey to take me to one of the most tender and tragic areas of humanity—child loss.
A few years ago, I discovered a wonderful foundation–Halos of St. Croix Valley–who generously support families who have faced the unbearable loss of a child ranging 0-21 years old. This foundation provides financial for funeral arrangements, burial and general resources for the bereaved parents and families.
My first experience attending one of their annual memorial walk events was one that truly impacted my life. It is annually one of the most anticipated events for the community where families walk together to honor their babies, no matter their age. As a parent to young children myself, my heart was humbled at the sheer number of families in attendance. I have met parents facing unrelenting grief, parents moving through the world trying to normalize a space for the heaviness of their heartache, to beautiful like-minded companies there to offer families ways to soften the sting. One of the resources I met there was The Fly High Foundation, a foundation that provides memorial and keepsakes to families facing early child loss (0-1 years). A tender partnership was born when I started to design albums for the families they serve.
In honor of Ulisis | Created 2025
The rawness and sensitivity of the photos shared to me often take my breath away and I find that with every page I design, I do through the blurriness of my tears. To date, I have had the opportunity to deliver 5-6 albums to bereaved families. Each eternally grateful to have a bespoke album to honor their precious angels. Words fail to convey how rewarding this work has been for me.
This brings me to one one album in particular.
In Honor of Dylan | Created 2025
My friend and I were pregnant at the same time with our 1st babies and again with our 2nd babies. It was such a fun time the first time and such a magical time to find out we were doing that again. But a few months after I gave birth to my son, I received a devastating text from her. Her son Dylan was born sleeping [a common way to say stillborn]. It’s been 2 years now and she gave me the honor to design an album to honor Dylan. Even as I recount this in the vaguest terms, my eyes well up and my throat gets tight. There is something incredibly special about being able to help a dear friend and her family. The photos within this album captures the day Dylan was born. They are poignant, beautifully heartbreaking and raw.
When I cry and show raw emotion as I design these albums, the term “be a professional” comes to mind. I have left that basic term at the door of the last full time agency job I held. For me now, being professional means holding my customers gently next to my heart as I take the best care I can of their precious baby’s photos. In my line of work, you often see the darkest days of the bereaved and I can’t help but to break down going through the photos. To me, if I wasn’t shedding tears, am I even a professional? My customers are trusting me, a stranger (to be honest) to delicately place the photos of their most prized possession with love and care. And I promise you, I deliver.
