"I Left the Hospital Empty-Handed, and That Was the Moment That Changed My Life"

"Nothing can prepare you for a situation where you end a pregnancy without a living baby," says Henny Moskowitz, a photographer specializing in newborns, family, and *chalakah*. "Pregnancy is such an exciting, joyous, and expectant state. So how is it possible for it to end with empty hands?"

But that's what happened in her sixth pregnancy, which followed five completely normal ones. "From the very first moment, I felt something wasn't quite right," she recounts. "I couldn't explain what exactly, but I didn't have a good feeling. I tried to reassure myself that everything would be okay and go smoothly, but I wasn't calm."

Henny lives in Ashdod, and about three months before the expected due date, a tragic incident occurred when a rocket fired from Gaza hit a yeshiva student on the street near her home, killing him instantly. "Four years have passed, and it's still hard for me to remember those moments," she continues with chills. "All the rescue teams passed under my house and caused me terrible stress. I didn't see the scene itself, but the sounds and screams were likely too much for me. Of course, nothing can be determined for sure, but two days later, I didn't feel well, and when I arrived at the hospital, I was told that the pregnancy was over and the baby was not alive."

Leveraging Trauma

Henny speaks with deep pain about the days she spent at the hospital, about the birth, and what happened afterwards. "It was a very traumatic event, because I love children and babies so much. Although blessedly I have a large family and amazing children at home, I consider each new pregnancy as the greatest gift in the world. Despite my pregnancies never being easy, I know it's all worth it. I was torn with longing for the baby girl I didn't have a chance to know. I felt a genuine difficulty in disconnecting and saying goodbye, and this difficulty did not end with my release from the hospital but continued to accompany me long after."

During one of the tough nights, Henny made a resolution to turn her pain into something beneficial. "This led me to establish a support group for women who have experienced a stillbirth," she shares. "Additionally, since I've worked as a photographer for years, I decided to add a new specialization in newborn photography. This field always interested me, and I felt that the opportunity was at hand. Instead of mourning what I lost, I'd channel my strong desire for another child into photography that would give me strength and hope."

Isn't it difficult to photograph tiny babies when you yourself have lost one?

"That's a very valid question, and more than that—on the day I was discharged from the hospital, I learned that my sister-in-law had given birth, and I burst into heart-wrenching tears. I felt I was acting irrationally, as she hadn't taken anything from me, and there's no connection between her healthy baby and the baby girl I lost, but it emphasized the empty space inside me. I also felt this way when I was invited to *brits* and celebrations of other babies; I simply couldn't bring myself to go to these places and rejoice with others while I was empty-handed."

"But simultaneously, something else happened—a strong desire to be blessed with a healthy baby. I believed it would happen; I prayed for it a lot, and part of my hopes and prayers were expressed in my new endeavor—learning the technique of newborn photography. It helped me believe and hope, although the journey wasn't easy, and month after month went by without me becoming pregnant. Later on, I also bought sweet props for the photoshoots, constantly promising myself: 'With Hashem's help, your baby will come, and you will welcome him with the most stunning newborn photo album you've ever made in your life.'"

Photographing and Supporting

Ultimately, it happened, and after a long wait, Henny was blessed with another pregnancy. "It was the pregnancy of Meli, our incredible daughter, a child of prayers; she brought so much light into my life, and I thank Hashem for her every day," she says with excitement. "Two years later, we were blessed with another amazing daughter. *Baruch Hashem*, there is much joy; may everyone be healthy."

In parallel with raising her children and her ongoing photography work, Henny continued to develop her newborn photography field, which greatly improved. Clients came, and there were numerous requests. "At a certain point, I paused and asked myself honestly: 'Maybe precisely now, when *Baruch Hashem*, you're successful and earning well, it's time to embark on a project for mothers who are in the situation you were in? Perhaps this is the chance to introduce them to newborn photography and illuminate their lives?'" These were not theoretical considerations, as Henny made a decision, which she continues to uphold: to go out once a month for a "Rainbow Baby" shoot—a term for a baby born after a stillbirth—and offer a gift of a free newborn photo album.

"I aim this offer at mothers who are already blessed to hold a new baby, as well as those still in the waiting process, so they have something to imagine, hope for, and wait for," she explains.

She also has an additional aspiration within this project: "The subject of stillbirth is one with insufficient awareness and almost no public discussion," she notes. "Women I meet tell me they felt so alone during the time following the birth, where on one hand, they are mothers in every sense, and on the other, they experience a process of grief and loss, but people around them don't understand these feelings and don't know how to support.

"I can say for myself that after the stillbirth, I received so many inappropriate comments, like: 'Be glad the baby wasn't born and then passed away,' or: 'How can you say you miss someone you've never seen?' as well as other insensitive remarks. There were also those who knew how to support and embrace, even without words, and in my case, that's what truly gave me the strength.

"I hope for all expecting mothers that they will leave, *with Hashem's help*, with full hands, but I also ask that they appreciate, thank, and rejoice in what they've received. If unfortunately one of them goes through what I and my friends have gone through, they should know there is hope, there is life after loss, and I am the proof."

Meli, the daughter born after the stillbirth