It’s April 4th, 2015 and I’m concerned. I’m concerned because my DJ business (R & D DJ And Event Services, LLC) has an event that night and I won’t be home. Why is being home important? It’s important because the most important event of my life is supposed to happen on April 5th (at least that’s the date the doctors say) and my very pregnant soulmate Joelle (who I affectionately call J) is at home all alone. Anyone who knows about due dates know that it’s an estimate. Babies come when they decide to come and they could care less about the Dr’s “due date”.
So off to do the event I go. I’m meeting my DJ partner there and he has graciously agreed that I would do the first half of the event and then leave to go back home – where I needed to be. The night kicks off and it seems like everyone knows the situation (through Facebook). They’re all asking me questions and all I can think about is Joelle’s water breaking while I am away. My “shift” is over (I can’t even remember one song that I played) and I text J to let her know that I am headed home. Instead of complaining about the contractions that have started, she requests a pizza from South Whitney Pizza. Of course I stop to get her a pizza and then I “fly” home.
When I get there she is on the couch looking very uncomfortable and I try my best to comfort her. She wolfs down the pizza as she knows that eating is not an option when the time comes (and the onions are supposed to bring on labor, the old wives say). Contractions are not consistent yet so we sit and wait for the rest of the night talking and watching tv, then we both fall asleep.
A few hours go by and I wake up and see that J is starting to get really uncomfortable. It is now past midnight and the date is now April 5th … was the Dr correct? I continue to monitor and record the contractions and we are getting close to the 5/1/1 rule (contractions every 5 minutes, lasting for 1 minute, consistently for an hour). We call the Dr and let him know the numbers and he says to come on in.. the baby is on it’s way! We grab our bags (already packed) and head to the Hospital.
Now I’m excited but not nervous. In fact, neither one of us is really nervous as this is J’s 4th rodeo. However, I am praying that my first born child will be healthy and that Joelle doesn’t have any complications compromising her health, as those 2 things are all that really matter to me. We check into the hospital and they set us up in our room and hook J up to the monitoring machine. The Dr checks the monitor for contractions and checks to see if she is dilating… which she is. He says it’s only a matter of time and then with a sterile medical tool that looks like a crochet needle with a hook on the end, he breaks her water. Now it’s on!
As she began to dilate more, J started off without the epidural but the pressure became too great and she decided to have the shot. Given that I was not physically having the baby, I just wanted J to get whatever she needed to be as comfortable as possible, as long as the baby wasn’t in danger. Personally, getting a shot in my spine doesn’t sound appealing but it didn’t seem to faze J at all.
Now we wait for a few and the Dr predicts that it will only be a “2 pusher”.
The baby is now in perfect position with the head down, facing forward. The Dr puts on his gloves, sits in the chair and at the next contraction tells J to push! She pushes once (breathing like crazy) and I can see what the Dr says is a head full of hair! This is really happening! Then she pauses (still breathing heavy) and I hold her left leg up while holding her left hand and at the next contraction she pushes again.. with all her might.. and… then… my life is changed forever. This huge, beet red, beautiful baby girl with a head full of dark hair and all her fingers and toes has entered the world. The Dr puts her on Joelle’s chest and somehow, thru God’s design that we call instinct, our baby figures out exactly what to do. After her first skin to skin with her mommy, the nurse takes her, they clamp the umbilical cord, hands me the scissors and I cut it.
My apologies but now I have to go back some months to help me describe what happens next. When we had the genetics testing done early on in the pregnancy, we agreed to let the baby’s sex be revealed to us. Now as a very proud man, I just KNEW that the baby was a boy. I was ultra confident and even envisioned myself teaching him what my older brothers taught me… how to be a man. When the Dr told us we were having a girl I couldn’t believe it and it threw me off so much that I was in shock for over 24 hours. I’ll never forget Joelle laughing at the look on my face when the Dr told us.
All that to say, when I laid eyes on my baby girl, I couldn’t imagine her being anything other than what she was and I had that instant father/daughter protective/bond connection. It is amazing how it happened. So much so that in honor of my deceased Mother, we gave my daughter her middle name – Vallee. It was very important for me to honor and keep my Mother’s legacy alive as she was the greatest person I’ve ever known. We actually hoped that she would be born on my Mother’s birthday but Little Miss Ravynn Vallee-Joy Perez decided to come out 5 days later, on Easter Sunday.
Now back to that day. The nurse cleans Ravynn up, checks her vitals and weighs and measures her – 9 lbs, 6 ounces, 21 inches long! Then she places a very tiny heater on her tummy to raise her temperature. Not long after, Ravynn makes her first official “poop” (outside the womb) and I change her very first diaper.
As soon as Ravynn’s temperature rises, she is placed in the loving arms of her Daddy. I’m finally holding my daughter for the first time! We are relaxing in heaven as my laptop is playing an 11 hour and 7 minute long playlist that I created for this experience. J and I both believe that music is important; it sets the mood and gives us life… literally.
Later on that night it hit me. I was holding Ravynn, facing the window away from J and my eyes began to water. Ok, I cried. Not that sobbing cry when you have lost something or someone but that gentle cry that lets you know that your heart has a new extension, and there is nothing that you can do or want to do to change that. What an amazing day.
That day, I said, “Daddy Loves You”, for the first time. I’ve said it to her at least ten times a day – every day – since.
