It was about 3 PM when everything started to align.

Wei Wei, my wife, was in the birthing suite waiting room — waiting for the operating theatre to be ready. Her water had broken, and we were in this delicate golden window of time. If our baby moved too far down, we’d miss our chance for a caesarean and have to pivot to a natural birth.

Sounds simple, but for us, natural birth wasn’t easy. When our first daughter, Nana, arrived, Wei Wei delivered her in one powerful push — from crown to shoulder — which led to a 3A tear, surgery, a tough recovery, and the spiral into postpartum depression during the isolation of COVID. With no family help and very little support, Wei Wei was eventually admitted to a mother and baby mental health unit for three months. We’re grateful to that team for helping us through, but it left a mark.

So this time, we planned everything: a scheduled C-section, family on standby, a midwifery student, a confinement lady — we weren’t going to face this alone.

By grace and good timing, the theatre became available. The scene inside? Controlled chaos. Over 20 medical professionals — anaesthetists, doctors, nurses — a small village working in sync to welcome our daughter into the world. As the lead doctor pushed with dough-kneading hands, at 4:17 PM, Meadows was born.

She was quiet at first — too chill to cry, maybe. Nurses rushed to check her reflexes. All was fine. But that moment? That moment of silence before the first breath — it hung in the room like light before sunrise.

Mum lost some blood, but after a couple of days, we were discharged, and I couldn’t help but feel overwhelming gratitude. Angliss Hospital was incredible. The Australian healthcare system, the care, the skill, the compassion — all of it reminded me what it truly means to bring new life into this world.

As someone deeply involved in photography, the symbolism wasn’t lost on me.

Light — it’s the first thing a newborn sees. From darkness in the womb to the bright, clinical lights of an operating theatre. And later, the soft glow of afternoon sun through a hospital window. Light welcomes us. It reveals, warms, and heals.

Photography is the art of capturing that light — of witnessing the moments we never want to forget. As I held Meadows in those early hours, I realised: photography and parenting aren’t so different. Both require attention, patience, vulnerability. Both ask us to be present.

To everyone who supported us, prayed for us, and stood beside us — thank you. We couldn’t have done this alone.

And to all of you out there, especially those holding a camera: pause, breathe, and notice the light. Because even in the chaos — especially in the chaos — it’s always there.

Let there be light.

All photos except for the last two were shot on Contax G2, 35mm f 2 lens on FilmNeverDie Suibo 500T film, last two photos were shot on Nana camera with FilmNeverDie Umi 800 film, develop and scanned by FilmNeverDie Melbourne.