With its white tail pointed toward the sky, the doe darted in front of the vehicle at 5:11 a.m.
Not again.
My wife and I were headed to Crosby's Cuyuna Regional Medical Center for the birth of our second son. A Caesarean section was planned for 7:30 a.m. June 23.
After the crazy circumstances surrounding the birth of our first son, Brady, added attention was taken by our family doctor, Kristin Elliott, and the surgical team of Michael and Rachel Cady.
My only job was to drive my wife to the hospital. Thankfully, deer are fast, because at 5 a.m., I'm not.
Our first attempt at childbirth didn't go well. We went from trying a natural birth to Caesarean to a helicopter ride for my wife and a four-night stay in the St. Cloud Hospital.
We were reminded of these events after we announced we were expecting again. The barrage of, "Aren't you scared? Are you nervous? Do you think this time will go better?" only confirmed how close my wife was to not surviving Brady's birth.
As I sat in our hospital room styling in surgical scrubs everything seemed relaxed yet, cautious.
My camera at the ready, I was led into the surgical room. The room appeared the same as it was the last time we were there two days short of three years ago.
Calm was the mood. On the business side of the surgical curtain things were going at a purposely slow pace.
The topic among people on the other side of the surgical curtain was if you press a small piece of metal on the surgical face mask it will stay on your nose.
A high-pitched screech broke the calm and Ethan Ronald Millsop was born at 7:42 a.m. He weighed 7 pounds and 12 ounces. He was 20 1/2 inches long and had more hair than both of his grandfathers, one of his uncles and my boss combined.
With Ethan being rubbed down and suctioned out everything seemed normal from the father's point of view. No loud whistles or sirens came from the monitors hooked up to my wife.
Ethan was wheeled out and I followed. Less than an hour passed and my wife returned, too. No complications. A healthy baby. A healthy wife.
As I sat holding our new son and fending off the very interested older brother, I couldn't shake a thought I had. This was boring.
The only uncertainty came from my niece who couldn't decide whether to believe me when I told her I saw two Hannah Montana concert tickets inside my wife's stomach.
Our two-night stay at the hospital was highlighted by a well prepared dinner for two on our final night. It was something we missed the first time. It was the only thing we missed from the first time.
The nurses handled everything with eager diligence. Our night nurse watched Ethan our final night so my wife and I could enjoy our final night of peaceful, uninterrupted sleep.
jeremy millsop, sports writer, may be reached at jeremy.millsop@brainerddispatch.com or at 855-5856.
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