The day river was born:
I finally rolled out of bed at around 9 AM.
I had been waking up all throughout the night, restless. A little uncomfortable…& just aware.
When I opened my eyes that morning, I just knew there was a good chance this was the day.
(To be fair, I was 39 weeks and 5 days. So… yeah. 😂)
I hopped in the shower and quietly prepared myself for what could be a labor day.
No drama. No rushing. Just a calm, beautiful East Texas morning.
Not a cloud in the sky. Sunshine. A high of 70 degrees.
It was the kind of day you’d pick if you could choose your baby’s birthday.
The first contraction
Around 10 AM, I made my way into the living room where my sweet mother-in-law was watching Beau and letting me sleep in (which she had been doing for the last two weeks… heaven sent).
I said my good mornings, walked into the kitchen, and started warming up breakfast tacos my dad had made for me (also heaven sent! He made a huge batch two weeks in a row).
Before the microwave even went off…
BAM.
That was a good contraction.
No warm-up.
No slow build.
Just "oh. Okay. We’re doing this."
Nine minutes later, another one hit.
I looked at my mother-in-law and said,
“I need to time these. This is it.”
10:05
10:14
10:20
10:25
10:30
10:36
10:42
10:50
10:57
There was no denying it.
River was coming.
becoming parents of two:
I called Sam and he came home from work and when he saw my face working through one of these contractions, he knew.
He was excited. Like genuinely geeked. 😂
With Beau, I was induced. There was a schedule. An epidural early. I didn’t even know when contractions started.
This time?
I had to figure it out. Braxton Hicks? Prodromal labor? The real thing?
Turns out… it was the real thing!
We got to the hospital around noon.
The second we walked into that room, it hit me:
“This is it. We’re about to be parents of two.”
How are we going to do this with babies so close in age?
Oh my gosh, Beau is going to be the best big brother.
How did we get so blessed?
Beau stayed home playing with his grandparents. He even went to McDonald’s for lunch. Completely unaware that his entire world was about to change.
Although… the past two days he had been extra clingy.
I think he knew.
Delivery room + worship
We made a worship playlist for the room, and with the big windows letting in beautiful natural light, we turned off half the overhead lights and opened the blinds. The space felt peaceful, calm, and covered.
I prayed for a safe delivery and a healthy baby girl. When the epidural hit, I felt immediate relief but then my blood pressure dropped significantly.
For a brief moment, there was fear. Thankfully, River’s blood pressure stayed stable the entire time. God was already protecting her.
When she was born, there was a small moment of silence while we waited for that first cry. She didn’t cry right away, and although she was placed on my chest, I didn’t want to get in the nurses’ way because you could tell she was struggling a little.
They took her to the heated scale and brought out the tiniest oxygen mask, my heart sank. I trusted the nurses completely, but fear still washed over me. I prayed quietly, “Dear Lord, please give River and her nurses the strength to pull her through this. Protect my baby girl.”
It felt like thirty long minutes, even if it probably wasn’t. I watched Sam. I watched the nurses’ faces, trying to read their expressions. At one point, Sam and I locked eyes, and his were filled with tears and worry.
Even in that uncertainty, the room remained calm. And then she stabilized. The tension eased, everyone relaxed, and I could finally focus on the fact that my placenta had decided not to release on its own because birth always keeps you humble. 😂
When they moved River over to the heated scale, everything in me narrowed.
Up until that point, I was focused on Lexxy...watching her, staying present, trying to make sure she was good. But the second they carried River across the room and the nurses started working around her, my attention locked in on our daughter and didn’t move.
I stood there with my arms crossed, one hand covering half my face, just watching.
River was flanked on both sides of the scale by nurses. They were counting her pulse, putting the oxygen on and off, working calmly and quickly. I don’t remember blinking. I could not look away.
I was deeply focused on what was happening right in front of me.
All I could really hear was the beeping of the machine tracking her heart rate.
75.
76.
85.
97
Back to 85.
Then 75.
Every number felt loud.
The nurses were steady, and that helped. Nobody looked panicked. Nobody overreacted. But as her dad, it was one of the hardest moments I’ve ever stood through because all I could do was watch and wait while they worked.
I kept looking at River, then back toward Lexxy, trying to be in both places at once. At one point, Lexxy and I locked eyes, and I knew she could see it on my face. I was trying to stay composed, but I was worried.
And then, little by little, things started to settle.
River stabilized. The room softened. You could feel it. The tension eased, and everybody could breathe a little easier. Me included.
That’s when it really hit me: she’s here.
I looked at her and just felt everything at once: relief, gratitude, awe. I remember saying, “River girl… she’s so beautiful.” And she was. She still is. The golden-brown hair, those tiny features, the way she already looked like she belonged with us.
Seeing your daughter for the first time is hard to explain. I loved Beau with everything in me the second he arrived, and this felt just as overwhelming but in a different way. It felt like a new part of my heart opened instantly, and somehow it had been waiting on her the whole time.
Becoming a girl dad in that moment felt like one of those gifts you don’t have words for yet.
And then Lexxy handed me the camera.
That meant a lot to me. More than I probably said at the moment. Before all of this, photography was one of the first creative things I really loved. Most of my style has typically lived in current events: protests, fast-moving scenes, moments that are raw and unpredictable. The kind of work where you react in real time and try to tell the truth of what’s unfolding in front of you.
This was completely different. Totally foreign, honestly.
There were no crowds. No chaos in the same way. No public moment to document.
And somehow, there was still a common thread.
It was still about being present.
It was still about emotion.
It was still about recognizing a moment that would never happen again and trying to preserve it honestly.
For her to trust me to document our daughter’s first moments while she recovered and did the impossible work she had just done felt full circle in the best way.
I wasn’t thinking about getting the “perfect shot.” I just wanted to capture what was true: the relief, the gratitude, the beauty of Lexxy, and the first moments of River’s life.
Looking back, I’m thankful for that whole moment, even the hard part of it. The nurses who cared for River so well, the calm in the room, the moment we finally got to exhale.
River Eden Christine Sosa.
Our baby girl is here, and I already can’t imagine this family without her.
