Letter writing is becoming a lost art. In fact, it ranked 9th on a list of 25 things vanishing from America. Today, we communicate electronically. An estimated 290 billion emails are sent per day and 600 tweets and 700 Facebook status updates are posted every second. It seems the days of slow, meaningful communication are being replaced by instant chatter, typed notes and texting.

In fact, NBC contacted me for an interview after one of the producers stumbled on the Letter to My Unborn Baby I shared here on The Creative Mama a few months ago. I also included that letter in a journal for my daughter-to-be–and I’m glad she has a record of it in my own handwriting. There is something magical and tactile and authentic abut the written word. And, I’m saddened to see it slipping away–in our culture and in my own life.

On the heels of Valentine’s Day, I’m encouraging you to write a letter or a short handwritten note to someone you care about. Or, if you have a received a letter recently, we’d love to share what it meant to you and why.

Here’s my excerpt from the NBC story — as well as the producer’s article and additional clips. They are beautiful stories worth watching.

Visit msnbc.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

Co-editor Stephanie Beaty is a blessed mama of three children and military spouse. After a 10-year career as a professional writer/PR pro she began Lifeography, a modern child + family portrait studio where she focuses on capturing relationships and connections. Although her growing family currently resides in Virginia Beach, Va., home is wherever the Navy sends them. Write to her at hello@lifeographer.com.

Photography came to me when I needed it most. I inadvertently discovered it at the end of my college career (literally in the last semester). Knowing I was graduating with no plan of what I would do with an art degree, photography came to the rescue. Soon after graduation, I quite accidentally got a job in the field with an event and child’s portrait photographer. And because I don’t really believe in accidents, I know it was fate.

Many years later, after fine tuning my photography, learning the business and settling into a fairly lucrative and highly satisfying career in event photography and portraiture I was pregnant with my second child. With this new chapter came contemplating not only the next move of my profession (burnout had me by the throat) but actually physically moving into a new home in a new city during my last trimester. I unexpectedly hit an unsettling and unyielding wall of depression. And the fog didn’t fully lift until my daughter’s 2nd birthday. I can remember a discussion I had with a friend at the party, marveling that I was finally feeling like myself again after all that time. I spent over 2 years in the isolating and terrifying darkness of pre and post-partum depression.

Even after many years, writing about it still feels strange. I barley speak of it. Not sure if its denial or if it was easier to try to sweep in under the rug of normalcy that slowly took its place in our home. Thankfully. When I was asked to share about my personal relationship with photography in conjunction with motherhood for the blog Mothers of Invention, the reality of what I went through really sunk in. And through it all, what really saved me was photography. I had put the profession on hold and so my time was left to being a mother (to 2 daughters now) and wife in an emotional place that didn’t feel safe, secure or stable. If there was a word to describe it, it would be scary. I wasn’t able to articulate it during those years and didn’t even know what was going on with me (some months were far more difficult than others) but upon reflection now I better understand what I was going though and why everything about life seemed so difficult.

Perhaps one of the only things that didn’t feel difficult was taking pictures. Ironically enough, the photos that I took of my second daughter in those early years are still some of the strongest images I have taken to date. At least as far as my own personal collection of family documentation is concerned. And yet sadly, in many cases, the moments that surrounded the photos have all but left my memory. In fact, I have huge holes in my memory from those years. But I know exactly what I was doing. I was seeking out the light from my dark hours. I used photography as therapy. I was able to distill even in the most trying of times glimpses of pure joy, beauty and light that helped me pierce even the darkest days just enough to let the light in. I was able to use my lens to focus on what really mattered.

Now, at 6-years-old one of my daughter’s favorite pastimes is looking through her photo albums; seeing herself as I saw her then. Although those years were really rough, I am so grateful that photography once again came to me when I needed it most. It pulled me out—with every click of the shutter—from my depression and into the miracle of motherhood.

Photography is one of many tools I used during the early years of my children’s lives. The other was journaling. Way back, when I had my first daughter, pregnancy journals were hard to find. So I wrote my own. And then I wrote another for the first year of motherhood. And Chronicle Books graciously published them.

Please leave your comments here for a chance to win one of my two books. I will be choosing 2 random winners from the comments. 1 reader will get a signed copy of Waiting for Baby and 1 reader will get a signed copy of Baby of Mine. You have until midnight on Thursday to be included in the drawing. Good luck!

Tracey is a photographer, writer, mom and an all-around idea girl. She loves natural light, low-tide and her Lensbaby Super-Wide. You can find her on her personal blog or over at Shutter Sisters, where is not only the founder but a regular contributor.