My hardest assignment


There's nothing as hard in this blog as the thing I'm writing about today.
I even don't really know where to start.
I'm just going to describe what happened.

On the 25th of May 2016 I received a message on my phone stating that a newborn, not older than three weeks, is about to die in the next few days.

The parents wished to have some picture of their little wonder before destiny would eventually rip their world apart.

I have never done something like that before.
As I was walking to the hospital entrance I felt growing anxiety in the face of what I was about to do.

How should I behave?
How to talk to the parents, knowing they are going trough hell on earth right now?

If there's an answer to that question, it might be, that there just isn't one.

There is no "right" way and to forcefully follow it, might even be the worst thing one could do.

I met a young, friendly and incredibly strong couple, from the look of their eyes you could tell, they haven't been there for just an hour sitting at the cradle and preparing for the most painful farewell one could possibly imagine.

There was little Maria.
Connected to all those hoses, fighting for her short life.
Everyone knows that this is pointless, that she never gets a chance in life, and everything that remains are two grieving parents who will never forget her.

Now matter what life has got for them.

Setting the aperture, setting exposure, setting ISO, focus and release.

If I had to think about it and didn't have reflexes and "internal" checking lists in my head, I wouldn't have been able to focus on any thought, let alone taking even one single shot.

I was working like a machine, it was like, I could watch myself just functioning.

When it was time to leave, I walked down the hallway with a giant lump in my throat.
With every step I took, my desire to get some distance from what just happened grew and grew just like the certainty that I wasn't in for something like distance at all.
The 20ft to the exit where stretching 10-fold.

I hope my pictures help, so the parents find a way to carry on with their lives and won't lose heart.
That was the only way I could help.

Someone asked my, why I do "stuff like that."

Here's your answer:
I want to capture a moment, that never comes back.

That's how easy even the hardest things can be.

It doesn't matter what life's got in store for me too.
In just a matter of minutes that little girl tought me more about life than the last three decades did.

I won't forget her either.
My little hero from Bldg. 26

Joachim Lehmann