I never intended to be a baby photographer. War photographer? Yes.

Fashion photographer? I toyed with it for a couple of years. A convenient wind blew me to newspapers and journalism. But baby photographer? I did not see this coming.

Then fatherhood arrived. Ancient reactions burned moments and images into my brain — images that only recently have allowed us to capture their shadows with an optical recording device. Later I was surrounded by co-workers with new babies and I began photographing them, proudly hoping to shoot fresh photographs of the world's oldest photo subject. I used my camera to relive intimate, close-up moments hoping to help others do the same. The format never changed. Naked babies in front of a white piece of paper. That was ten years ago.

This was one of the first pictures I shot. I don't think I'd ever seen a picture of a baby's back quite like this, and yet, how many countless parents have taken a moment to ponder the back of their baby boy's neck or the perfection of their infant daughter's skin?

When I had ten photographs I loved, I knew I was on to something. I would keep shooting. I could make a book out of this. It needed words.

I called Anna Quindlen.