Olga & Carlos: A Pregnancy Portrait That Refuses to Be Sweet

The Shot That Almost Wasn’t

The original idea was grand—a symbolic still life, their lives arranged artfully on my coffee table: Olga’s favorite book, Carlos’ watch, some trinket that meant something only to them. It was going to be profound. Instead, it was a mess. Too literal. Too staged. The magic wasn’t in the props; it was in the unguarded moment I almost missed.

This black-and-white frame was an afterthought. Just the two of them, no clever composition, no metaphorical clutter. And yet—here’s the irony—it’s the one that lingers.

The Uncomfortable Truth in the Frame

Pregnancy photography usually follows a script: soft light, flowing fabrics, hands cradling the bump like it’s made of porcelain. This? This breaks the mold. Olga’s belly isn’t gently highlighted—it dominates, round and unapologetic. Carlos isn’t bathed in golden glow; he’s half in shadow, a quiet presence beside her.

The reactions were split. Some loved its honesty. Others squirmed. Good, I thought. The discomfort is the point. This isn’t a Hallmark card; it’s a real body, a real couple, in a real moment that’s equal parts tenderness and tension. That shadow across Olga’s face? It’s not a flaw—it’s the unspoken weight of what’s coming.

Why I’ll Defend This Shot (Even If It Doesn’t Pay the Bills)

Commercial work demands compromise, but some images exist just because they must. This one won’t land me gigs for pastel maternity shoots. It might even put a few clients off. But art shouldn’t always be safe. Sometimes it’s about catching the unvarnished truth—the way Carlos’ hand rests on Olga’s back, possessive and protective. The way her body is hers, but also suddenly not entirely hers anymore.

I’ll revisit the staged shots someday. Maybe they’ll work better in context. But this? This stays.