OK. So it's nearly three weeks after the fact, but here he is. Robert Edward Cameron was born Sunday, March 1, 8:10am. He weighed 6 lbs., 10 oz. and measured 19.5".
The surgery went off without so much as a hiccup, and Uncle James (Jeff's brother) was there to help out. (Yes, he's a doctor -- not, like, a teacher with nothing better to do on a Sunday morning.) Anyway, I don't remember the names of all the medical professionals on the job with us that morning or throughout the week, but I want to publicly thank the anesthesiologist for a spinal that didn't hurt a bit. I'm not kidding... having a needle poked into your back is never something to look forward to, but Dr. Lu made it literally pain free. Dr. Wheeler brought his usual sense of humor to the OR that morning, putting everyone at ease and calming my nerves ... even though I'd been through this particular drill before. Twice, in fact.
Comic relief came later that day and in the following days because as Jeff was there at the hospital with me, he would periodically visit the family lounge for a diet Coke or snack. As he walked the halls, at least one nurse would either comment or mistake him for James. (They're identical twins.) By the time Wednesday afternoon rolled around, and we were ready to leave for home, there was still one or two nurses who ran into the room with the now familiar exclamation, "I didn't know Dr. Cameron had a brother!"
All the nurses were great. In fact, just after surgery wrapped up, the nurses allowed James to escort not only my parents, but Jack, Charlie, Sam, Tyler and Kate back to the recovery room to visit us. A few at a time, of course, so as not to border on a riot crowd. As if our immediate family isn't large enough, we also had out-of-town visitors who had attended my baby shower the day before. At one point, after having returned to my room, I think we had 13-14 people in there. Everyone was standing quietly ... just staring at the baby as I held him. The six younger kids encircled my bed, looking at the little pink bundle in the baby blue knit cap sitting next to me. "What does he do?" one asked. "You're looking at it," I responded. And they were all OK with that.
Since coming home on the 4th, we have taken our time getting used to having an infant around again. With Sam being the youngest at 7, it's been quite a while since I've had to change a diaper or decipher a cry pattern. Jeff's youngest is Kate, who turns 15 tomorrow ... talk about a good chunk of time passing since HE'S changed a diaper. I think everything's come back to us quite nicely. We haven't had any major lapses in judgement, other than underestimating just how adorable newborn babies can be. We have done our fair share of staring ... just staring at this amazing little man we call Bobby. He doesn't do a whole lot, except melt our hearts with every stretch, grimace and contented sigh.