Catie's VIVIFY Session
“ I am not exaggerating when I say that I have thought about this Vivify expereince every day since. I am forever grateful.”
Catie was one of my former brides back in 2016, during my bustling days as a wedding photographer. It feels like a lifetime ago, that chapter of my life, but Catie remains one of my favorite brides to work with. She's what you might call a gals' gal, though not in the ways you'd typically assume. At first glance, she might seem quiet, but do not let that fool you—beneath her calm demeanor lies a warmth that draws you in, and a knack for clever humor that never fails to bring a smile to your face. After her wedding, I kept a somewhat casual eye on Catie's life via Instagram, as I often do with most clients.
Then, one early summer day in 2023, amidst the routines of everyday life, Catie's message landed in my inbox like a thunderclap. The words carried a weight of vulnerability that shook me to the core: breast cancer. Faced with this daunting diagnosis, Catie sought not just solace, but a way to honor her body before it underwent profound change.
Her request for a Vivify Session was an opportunity to capture the spirit of herself before the impending mastectomy. Despite the whirlwind of my schedule, there was only one sliver of time available—a narrow window between clients, just before I was due to depart for a trip. With a 30% chance of rain, I was determined to make it work, knowing in my bones that I had to do everything in my power to make this session come to fruition.
As Catie's session date approached, so did the looming threat of big-time rain. As anyone familiar with North Carolina weather knows, it can turn on a dime. I found myself obsessively checking multiple weather apps, each offering wildly different predictions. Despite the uncertainty, I was trying to hold onto hope, believing that even if we captured just a handful of shots, it would be worth it for Catie. She deserved this moment.
While shopping for her florals, I glanced out the store window to see a monstrous downpour—I'm talking about potential flash floods, the kind that could soak you to the bone in seconds and turn the streets into torrents of water and chaos. This was the only day I could schedule Catie, and this rain was not going to let up. My heart raced with panic, but then, a glimmer of hope—a ping echoed from my phone, signaling a DM. It was a message from Catie's best friend, Caitlin, her maid of honor, offering to hold an umbrella if needed. Tears welled in my eyes as I clung to the florals I just purchased; this was support, this was love, this was true friendship.
Later that day, Catie and her friend arrived at my house for Catie to quickly choose a dress. Despite the storms delaying my preparations and the need for an unexpected trip across town for twine, my hands shook with determination as I crafted her crown of purple asters—a symbol of wisdom and royalty befitting Catie's strength.
As we made our way to the river, rain still coming down, we hiked quickly to the water. Then, miraculously, the skies cleared. What was supposed to be a washout became the most magical session I've ever experienced—a true lump formed in my throat because it all felt so special. The river was cold from the fresh rain, but Catie didn't bat an eyelash. Her calm demeanor set the tone for our time together. Each click of the shutter felt like a sacred act, a testament to Catie's courage and resilience in the face of adversity.
After the Vivify session, I wanted to raise a glass of crisp rosé with Caitlin, toasting to Catie and wishing her the very best on her journey. The three of us sat at my kitchen table, the dim glow from the small kitchen lamp casting a cozy light over our conversation. It was a time for Catie to share more about her breast cancer journey so far, and for us to look through the back of my camera, reflecting on the moments captured and the strength they represented. As we talked, I asked Catie how she discovered her cancer, expecting to hear about a sudden lump or other physical sensation. To my surprise, she explained that she noticed a visual change—skin dimpling. She spoke calmly about her choice to have a bilateral mastectomy and remained hopeful that the surgery would take care of it. We laughed—no tears—because Catie deserved smiles and strength. By the end of the night, three sleepy mamas hugged, and I gratefully accepted Caitlin's offer to send me a quick note after Catie's surgery, letting me know when she'd be out and in recovery.
Caitlin did just that. I had Catie on my mind all that day. A few days later, Catie messaged me with tough news: she would have to undergo chemo and radiation. She wrote,
“All this to say, I’ve been staring at the photos all night. I’m so grateful for them. They’re truly giving me strength.”
I sobbed.
Six or so months passed as I followed Catie's journey on social media, cheering her on with every post. She lost her hair, and though her face remained brave, I knew social media often only highlights the good. Despite having no family history of the disease, she discovered that her breast cancer was likely linked to NC State's building Poe Hall. This revelation left my stomach in knots.
I know Catie believes in the importance of awareness, which is why I’ve woven this into her story. She has graciously agreed to share her perspective on her breast cancer journey. Through her thoughtful responses, Catie offers a glimpse into the realities of facing such a diagnosis and how she navigated the challenges along the way. Below, you’ll find her answers to questions about her experience:
How have you been coping with your diagnosis and treatment?
It has now been over a year since my diagnosis and surgery; I finished chemo seven months ago and radiation five months ago - I am still working on coping. At first, I was extremely sad, thinking about what this meant for my family and especially for my daughter, who was five at the time. I became angry and frustrated while at times feeling resolute and determined to put this behind me. I now recognize that the full gambit of emotions is normal and healthy and I have benefited greatly from therapy through the entire journey. Accepting and feeling ALL of my emotions was the best way for me to cope.
What support has been most helpful to you?
As someone who tries to be as independent as possible, I've never been great at accepting help or support. The past year has slowly chipped away at my hesitation when it comes to receiving help. I am lucky to have received an outpouring of support from the people surrounding me. My family, friends, and coworkers were all extremely supportive. I appreciated different types of support during various parts of this journey, but I think what truly meant the most were the times my friends and family not only gave me the permission, but truly convinced me to give myself a break. Being a mom and working full-time through surgery, chemo, and radiation was not easy and I had trouble allowing myself to take a step back. The support I received from my people allowed me to (eventually) let some things go, drop the ball from time to time, and give myself a necessary break.
What advice would you give to others facing a breast cancer diagnosis?
You have options. You have options for surgery, options in providers, options for scheduling, and options for how you choose to grieve and cope. Feeling empowered in decision-making, when faced with a life-altering diagnosis, isn't the easiest feat. When I was first diagnosed, I felt like everything was out of my control and this made me extremely uncomfortable and frustrated. As I progressed through stages of treatment, I learned that I had more control than I thought or rather, that taking control where I could, made things feel less chaotic. Don't hesitate to say what you need and advocate for yourself. Ask any and all questions that you have for your providers, even if you think they may be silly. You deserve to have all of the answers when it comes to your health.
Specifically, around surgical options, I think it's important for people to know that there are a range of options for reconstruction but also- you don't have to reconstruct. Every woman's feelings around her breasts and body are unique and for many, reconstructing is a no-brainer. For me, the idea of reconstruction never felt like the right choice. My surgeon presented me with a range of options including aesthetic flat closure. I was not familiar with this option and from the moment she mentioned it in our first appointment, I was intrigued and something tugged in my gut saying this was the right choice for me. I spent time looking into this option and ultimately decided to go flat. For me, this meant only one surgery compared to the series of surgeries it would take to reconstruct. I wanted the fastest route to recovery, symmetry, and feeling well enough to play with my daughter. Had my surgeon not mentioned this option, I potentially wouldn't have become aware; I urge anyone in this position to explore all options, don't settle, and continue to ask questions until you are comfortable with your surgical plan.
The other piece of advice I'd give is to let yourself feel and express the entire range of emotions you're likely to have around a cancer diagnosis. Your emotions are not a burden on anyone else. Cancer sucks. Surgery sucks. Treatment sucks. You don't have to be positive and see the silver lining in all scenarios. You can be mad, sad, and fed up. There will be bright spots but, you don't have to force yourself into a mindset of toxic positivity.
How do you stay hopeful during challenging times?
My daughter was my main source of hope during my year of treatment and she continues to be that for me. I have plans to watch her grow up, make mistakes, and learn about the world. I am hopeful that my cancer journey will only be a blip in the story of her life.
Recently, I have found hope in community through an organization called The Breasties. In June, I attended Camp Breastie, which is a four-day summit for those impacted by breast and gynecologic cancer to gather for community, advocacy, and education. I was scared and nervous but was determined to attend in an effort to get out of my comfort zone. Not everyone has the same needs nor is everyone on the same timeline when it comes to finding resources through community but, they do exist and I cannot express just how grateful I am to have found this community.
What self-care practices have helped you through treatment?
Rest. I had to become comfortable with allowing myself time to rest and I think this was the most beneficial form of self-care I adopted during my treatments.
What message would you share with those hesitant to undergo screenings or check-ups?
The fear and anxiety that is stopping you from a screening or check-up is valid. I often have moments where I look back on my entire experience and think "What if I just hadn't said anything? I wouldn't have gone through the waking nightmare that was cancer and still is." I've allowed myself to sit with this line of thinking at times and I always circle back around to gratitude that I advocated for myself and pushed my doctor to look closer when she 'didn't feel anything.' Early detection is extremely important and you know your own body. It is worth it to get checked out, whether it results in peace of mind or a diagnosis.
Are there any misconceptions about breast cancer you'd like to clarify?
A mastectomy or any breast surgery for cancer is NOT a free boob job! I'm sure most people know this, intellectually, but it's still a comment made frequently in a 'light-hearted' manner and it's not helpful or funny.
Cancer will never define Catie. Her inner beauty, kindness, wit, and roles as a mother, wife, daughter, and friend shine far brighter than any diagnosis. Her journey reminds us all that while cancer is a part of her story, it will never capture the essence of who Catie truly is.
Catie's Vivify session became more than just a collection of photographs; it became a tribute to the power of embracing life's transitions with grace and courage. Her journey served as a reminder that even in our darkest moments, there is light to be found if we only dare to seek it.