Anyway, not only did I get to be in the delivery room, but I got to help my wife "push" (mostly by yelling and counting and reminding her when to breathe). Heck, I even got to cut the cord, which was a real surprise. Doctor Young clamped the cord in two places, and then his assistant handed me a pair of long-handled scissors.
"What... you want me to hold these for you while you go get a towel or something?"
So I cut the cord, held my daughter, hugged my wife, cried a bit ("must've gotten something in my eye... don't mind me"), and basically took joy in the fact that I get a chance to provide a loving home to someone who stands a good chance of being smarter and taller than I am.
Mother and baby are fine, and baby is remarkably alert and well-developed. I was singing her a lullaby just hours after she was born, and she was looking around wide-eyed, waving her arms, trying to figure out how to make the horrible noise go away.