Hi, I'm Kassi
Life has continued to evolve for me, but photography has always been there when I needed it.
When we unexpectedly lost our daughter, I couldn't fathom picking up my camera. Then one day, several weeks later, I did. And my appreciation for photos of my loved ones – especially my Daphne – has never been deeper.
Not a day goes by that I don't look at photos of my daughter, and I want you to have photos you cherish, too.
Thank you for being here.
(photo cred to Morgan DiFucci Photography)
a bit more of my story: how grief has shaped me
content warning: child loss
My journey as a bereaved mom has more than transformed me as a human and as a photographer.
Daphne is our firstborn, born October 24, 2024. We learned at our 18-week-anatomy scan that she had various congenital heart defects (CHD) that would require monitoring the remainder of my pregnancy and once she was born. To make a long story short, I had a beautifully empowering birth, Daph came out with the strongest lungs, and her heart was doing great. She was home for 13 weeks before going in for her first (and likely would have been her only) open heart surgery to correct a critical CHD on January 23, 2025. She was smiling and bubbly as she went off to the OR, our strong and brave girl. We unexpectedly said goodbye to her 12 hours later as her surgery did not go as planned.
Because how can I expect you to trust me with your family and who and what you love most, if I can't trust you with mine? So this is my story. And it's changed me.
I find myself to be softer–because a hard heart leaves no room for joy.
I find myself to be even more deeply empathetic–because you never know what someone might be carrying in their day-to-day.
I find myself to cherish photos differently–because a moment is worth more than staged perfection.
There isn't a photo that I took of my daughter that I regret. I only wish I took more.
Daphne's little brother, Clarke, was born one year later in January 2026. Mothering after child loss is its own special motherhood journey. I'll forever long for my daughter. I'll forever grieve her life ending sooner than she deserved. I'll forever wish my entire family can be in a photo together.
And yet, these feelings of longing, grieving, and wishing have created a mom and photographer who cherishes the ordinary moments even more deeply than before. Every day is special. Every day is worth remembering. Every season is worth capturing. Life is worth living, loving, and celebrating.
Mothering both a daughter in the sky and a son in my arms is my greatest joy and honor.
and to my fellow loss moms, heart moms, medical moms, and moms whose motherhood looks different,
I'm sorry your motherhood looks different than you could have imagined.
I'm sorry you know the grief of a motherhood forever changed in such a way.
And through it all, you are seen. I am with you.