'OK. Here we go.'

This will be long and it's more for our recollection down the road, so if it's too long just look at the pictures and move along.

And we're off...

The story of Colin's birth starts at The Strip Club. 

For those wondering where this is headed, no worries; The Strip is our go-to restaurant. Think steaks, not skin. It's a great St. Paul joint with top-notch food, drink and service.

After dropping off Elise at Anni's parents' house last Sunday night -- the night before the birth -- we decided to head to The Strip for our last dinner for two for a while. (Anni couldn't eat or drink after midnight the night before the c-section, so why not make it a good "final" meal?)

We were back home early enough to get a solid, uninterrupted night of sleep. Except that there was tedious  but necessary stuff to do.

It seemed to me that we did a better job of getting stuff -- baby items, house cleaning, health insurance changes, etc. -- ready before leaving for the hospital for Elise. In all honesty, though, Anni did the same good prep this time and it was just me who realized the day before Colin was born that I should probably get that car seat situation sorted out. It involved the eventual shuffling of five car seats in two cars, only one of which is actually ours. It's a longer story than this will be and I will spare you.

So after returning from dinner and wrapping up odds and ends, we crashed. That's because Anni had the early surgery and a 5:30 a.m. wake-up comes early, even for those of us with small children accustomed to early mornings.

Anni as we walked out the door for the hospital.

We left the house a bit later and talked about how great it'd be if Anni had the same surgery prep nurse as last time. She was phenomenal: comfortable, funny and good, and she put Anni at ease. 

As we walked through the hospital hallway to get to the birthing area, a woman rushed by us. 

"That's her," I told Anni. "That's (the nurse)."

Shockingly, Anni questioned my memory. No matter, I was sure it was the nurse.

---

Like few other places do, being in a hospital brings back memories of your last hospital visit. The lighting, the routine, the smells -- blankets, the scrubs, even the hand soap -- and even the layout of medical equipment in a room. I even remembered how no matter where I stood, I was in the way.

It was all coming back to me. Granted, Elise was born less than three years ago, but it seemed like a long time ago. That is, until we were back in the same surgery prep room and in walked the same nurse.

"You're so-and-so," I told her. (Only family and friends need to be named.)

"Yeah, and you and your wife look familiar," she replied.

"Well, my wife's going to be happy to see you," I said.

And she was. Anni was thrilled to see that nurse, and for the next hour or two before the surgery our conversation bounced from pain medication to vacations, from saline bags to the challenges of raising multiple children.

Then we started talking about baby names. We struggled with boy names up until the final week, but the nurse had some interesting suggestions based on actual names given to babies at the hospital in recent months or years.

"We had a Placenta," she said.

Really, that was a name, but it wasn't the most baffling name.

"And there was a Chlamydia," she said.

No, really. That was an actual baby name. 

We had a good chat, and the nurse had a good memory. We talked about pictures taken of newborns with their parents.

"I took care of a woman whose husband was a photographer, and he asked that I take a picture because they had a blog. But after I took the picture, the guy looked at it and said: 'Well, it's fine. We'll take another later.'"

There was a pause.

"Wait, that wasn't you, was it?" she asked.

Yes, it was.

---

Anni's surgery got bumped because of another more urgent situation, so we waited some more. She finally was wheeled into the operating room and I was told to assume my position, which meant I was to stay put for a while and they'd call me in shortly before they baby would be born.

There were strict instructions that we had gone nine months without knowing whether we were having a boy or a girl and Anni only would find out by me telling her, not by having some enthusiastic blabbermouth doc blurt out the gender before the delivery's even done. 

Anni made sure to remind the doctors of that.

Eventually I was called into the operating room and told to sit next to Anni's head, a spot from which a view of the actual surgery was obstructed.

It's common for guys to drop to the floor at the sight of a c-section delivery, but I don't get too weirded out by the sight of blood.

"Can I stand up and watch?" I asked the nurse anesthetist. 

"Not if it's going to be a short viewing," he said.

The lead-up to the delivery isn't very emotional for me; aside from the expected concern that goes with a major surgery, I'm more fascinated by the procedure. It's not often you watch a surgery while standing next to the patient, but I wasn't going to argue with the nurse anesthetist so I waited, making small talk with Anni.

Some time went by.

"OK, here we go," one of the doctors announced as the baby was about to be delivered. I was told to stand up.

At 10:17 a.m. Anni's doctor held up a healthy looking baby and that nurse anesthetist excitedly shouted out "It's a ..." before he was shouted down by just about everyone in the room.

Anni's doctor looked at me to make sure I saw the relevant parts of the baby. 

I had been right all along. From the very beginning, I had a strange hunch we were having a boy. But I made sure to look a little longer to make sure I knew what I was staring at because, well, it'd be bad to screw up that announcement.

I sat down next to Anni.

"Elise has a brother," I told her.

---

We didn't immediately decide on the name, but picked Colin Richard before the baby and I went to a waiting area while Anni's surgery wrapped up. The three of us hung out for a bit as they got Anni situated in recovery.

 

They let our family into the room in small groups to see the baby before we moved up to Anni's hospital room.

Anni and Colin stayed at the hospital for four days and had great care. The nurses and staff were great. Anni did a great job, despite a slightly slower recovery. 

 

 

 

  

 Your departure from the hospital with a newborn is not marked by anything other than "congratulations" from the nurses. I mean, they don't even have you sign anything. You're just supposed to leave when you're ready. 

So we did.