Capturing the Miracle: A Photographer's Perspective on Destiny's Birth Experience

I first met Destiny just a few weeks before her daughter was due. She reached out with the hope of documenting this final chapter of her motherhood journey—her fourth baby. As an Army family stationed at Fort Riley, they were about an hour away from me in Topeka, but she was committed to making the drive for the sessions she wanted most. I put together a package that would hold space for all of it: maternity, birth, fresh 48, and a newborn session.

Destiny came to Topeka for the maternity photos, bringing along her husband and their three young kids. That’s when I got my first real glimpse into who she is—a quiet strength, a soft soul. Her husband was delightfully goofy, doing everything he could to keep the kids smiling. 

I remember noticing her nails—one hand painted in pink, the other in blue, both adorned with Lilo and Stitch details. I asked why she had both blue and pink, knowing that she was carrying a little girl, and her answer stayed with me. She told me about her twins—Dakota, her baby girl growing strong inside her—and Fable, her son who had passed away early in the pregnancy. Her voice was gentle but steady. Her grief just under the surface. Her love for them, unshakable. That moment, the way she carried both joy and sorrow in her breath, was my first true impression of Destiny.

For the remainder of the session, we pulled out a fancy gown for some solo portraits of Destiny. She was absolutely stunning and open to the creative posing I suggested.

Nearing the end of her pregnancy, her OB told her that Dakota was breech and scheduled an external cephalic version (ECV) followed by an induction. But life, in its own strange twist, had other plans. Destiny carried her toddler down the stairs one day, and in the movement of that moment—painful and unmistakable—she felt Dakota flip. 

At 39 weeks, when she arrived for the induction, her baby was head-down, and her body was already preparing: 3cm dilated. I arrived about an hour after Destiny and her husband checked in to the hospital - around 10:30AM.

Labor began gently. Pitocin was started, and her provider did a membrane sweep to encourage progress. From there, the day was full of soft rhythms and passing time. She and her husband spent the early hours FaceTiming their babies at home, watching shows, and playing a phone game called Lucky Defense. The two of them had a sweet, lighthearted banter that made the whole room feel easy and close. I didn't feel like a stranger.

Around 1 p.m., they broke her water. Though she was still only 3cm, they hoped the pressure would help her cervix open further. We chatted about birth plans—Destiny was planning for an epidural and had such a grounded, open spirit about it all.

A little soft rock filled the room. Baby Dakota was happy and moving, already responding to the world outside. By 2 p.m., contractions were building into a steady, powerful rhythm. Destiny began to breathe through each wave, her strength starting to rise to the surface.

At 3 p.m., she was 4cm. She FaceTimed her mama and her mother’s voice became her comfort. It grounded her throughout her labor and delivery.

By 4 p.m., she requested the epidural, and the anesthesiologist took time to walk her through everything with calm and clarity. Once it was placed, Destiny could finally relax. She picked up her phone to check on the kids at home.

At 6 p.m., a cervical check showed 5cm dilation, 80% effacement, and baby was at -2 station. Slow and steady. At 7:30, she moved to the peanut ball to help baby rotate and descend. Another position change at 8:30p.m. In the restful moments, her husband ordered pizza, and I was grateful when they offered me a meal and a quiet moment to rest. I read for a bit, as I often do during the slower stretches.

Then by 9:30, everything changed. She began to feel a deep, constant pressure. She was 9cm, shaking and updating her mom on FaceTime. The room shifted. The energy deepened. Her team began to prepare.

At 9:52 p.m., with barely three pushes, baby Dakota was born—caught by her own father.

Destiny later told me that her favorite moment of her entire birth experience was watching Alex, her husband, help deliver their daughter. He is always her person—every time she labors, he is right there, rubbing her back, making her laugh, steadying her heart. But this time, she said she was surprised by how calm he was as he caught their baby. It was as if he was made for that moment.

She surprised herself too. She pushed so fast, so strong—just 2.5 pushes and Dakota was earthside. She told me birth helped her connect to her body in a way she had never experienced before. She’s learned she can trust herself deeply, especially in that final, intense stage. Her body, she now knows, can do incredible things.

But even in the joy, there was the ache. Destiny shared that the hardest part of her labor was trying not to think about how Dakota’s twin, Fable, wouldn’t be born beside her. That grief sat in the corners of the room—never loud, but never gone. When the moment came to push, though, she focused entirely on Dakota, on bringing her safely into the world and flooding her with love. What Destiny didn’t know until later was that Fable had, in fact, been there all along. When she gave birth to Dakota, Fable’s small body was discovered. Present. Quiet. Still held within her.

The next day, I returned for her Fresh 48 session. Dakota was pure sweetness—peacefully sleeping in her hospital basinet.

A few weeks later, Destiny and her family made the trip to Scranton for her studio newborn session. Dakota was just as perfect as the day she was born. We created several special setups to honor the journey. The first one was all white, draped with a rainbow cloth—a symbol of healing and hope.

One celebrated their military life, with Daddy in uniform, holding his baby girl to her resting in his helmet - safe.

Another setup featured Stitch, the same character on her pregnancy nails. It felt like a full circle moment. 

And then, there were the twin beds: I set up two beds - one for her, and one to honor him. As a twin mom myself, this hit different. I know what it feels like to picture two babies growing up side by side. Two outfits. Two car seats. Two sets of tiny socks. So when one of them doesn’t make it…it’s a grief most people can’t fully wrap their heads around. Her parents still wanted to show that he existed. That he mattered. That he was planned for, prayed for, loved. So I used matching beds, matching textures, different colors, same tenderness. I’m just really honored they trusted me with this. It’s not lost on me what it means to photograph these stories. The loud ones full of cries and first breaths and the quiet ones, too. Where love still lives, even when loss walks beside it.

We ended the session with family photos—smiles, snuggles, and that unmistakable bond of a family who has weathered joy and loss in the same breath.

During her birth story questionnaire, I asked Destiny how it felt to have me there photographing and what impact my presence had on her experience. She told me something that will always stay with me: that she felt seen in a different way. Heard. Like she wasn’t crazy for feeling the things others might overlook. She said I helped her hold space for what was truly there. That’s what this work is about.

Destiny’s story is one of grace and grit, of sorrow and celebration. It is one of love—deep, layered, and enduring. I am so honored I was trusted to witness it.