First shoot of the year….

Of all the types of shoots I do, my first session of the year—January 2, 2026—had to be a birth.

If I had to compare myself to anyone in terms of what I believe in, it would be Pi Patel from Life of Pi. At the beginning of the story, he’s drawn to many religions, wanting to understand all of them, yet not fully belonging to any. That has always resonated with me. Since Mom left, I’ve tried to open myself—just a little—to what I feel I can relate to the most: the idea that we are energy. And energy doesn’t disappear… or at least, I want to believe it doesn’t.

How can I be so emotional, so sensitive, and yet need so many facts to believe in things that don’t have direct answers? I want to make sure I’m not believing simply out of sadness.

I don’t pray to saints or virgins. Well, maybe I have—mostly on planes during turbulence or in hospitals—but deep down I always knew it came from desperation more than belief.

During this birth, for a brief moment, I felt worried. Even though I knew she was in great hands and that there was probably no real danger. And then, out of nowhere, something happened—something organic and real. Not out of desperation. I asked Mom if she was around, if she could help if needed.

Let me be clear: I’m not saying my mom helped with the birth. I know everything would have been fine regardless. But for the first time in my life, I asked—prayed, manifested—something beyond my understanding without feeling weird about it. And it felt good.

I was scared of starting 2026. I have missed Mom so much. The passing of time feels like accepting that she won’t be part of future moments—going back to work, birthdays, achievements, mistakes, wounds, celebrations, travels. All of it continuing without her. That realization is incredibly painful.

And somehow, after a year of loss, my first gig was a birth. A birth we were sure would happen on Christmas Day. But no—this baby waited until January 2.

I know time is something we invented, and in theory the date shouldn’t matter. But it did. It felt like the right way to begin. And maybe—just maybe—it was her, sending me that job on that day.