This picture takes my breath away every single time. A single glance brings back a flood of memories—some tender, some heart-wrenching, some almost too hard to face. It’s a photo that might make some people uncomfortable, yet when I look at it, I see something extraordinary. I see beauty, resilience, and a miracle unfolding.
This photo was taken the day my triplets were born. At just 22 weeks gestation, each weighed barely over one pound. Their skin was translucent, a bright, fragile red, as a team of doctors and nurses worked frantically to save them. Their tiny bodies were carefully wrapped in plastic—a simple, lifesaving tool to keep them warm outside the womb. You can almost see the scale of their smallness in comparison to the nurse’s hand, which looks enormous beside them.
For years, I didn’t even know this picture existed. It surfaced unexpectedly when my husband was scrolling through his phone, and there it was—a snapshot from the day we officially became parents. Seeing it now, my heart races, and tears well up. This photo brings me back to that moment in the delivery room, the very day we lost our first daughter. The tiny faces in the photo are too small and fragile to differentiate, but it was one of our little ones—either Parker, our son, or Peyton, our surviving daughter. Moments after my husband took this photo, two of our babies were rushed to the NICU, marking the beginning of a long, bittersweet journey.
We never had the classic “first family photo” in the delivery room—the one with smiles and coos, holding our perfect newborns. This is our photo instead. It shows the reality of premature birth: the fear, the uncertainty, and the hope that somehow, our babies would beat the odds. Nearly two months later, our son passed away, leaving us with unimaginable grief alongside a profound sense of love.
This picture is difficult to look at, showing a baby so tiny and fragile, almost unrecognizable. And yet, in the midst of the chaos of that day, there is so much beauty. At 22 weeks, our babies were given a fighting chance at life. Even though we lost two of them, I am eternally grateful for that moment, for that fleeting glimpse of possibility. This photo captures the beginning of a miracle—and now, six years later, when I look at our surviving daughter, Peyton, it reminds me of just how far she has come. It reminds me that even in heartbreak, there is hope, and even in tragedy, there is life.
