My eyes glare down at the hard floor.  My palms are sweating.  My family is with me, all with hope in their eyes.  Their hope is fixated on the door, unmoved for two hours.  And when the tense silence could not grow anymore, the door opens.  My brother is standing with tears in his eyes at the doorway.

"His name is Paul Andrew Cochran, but his friends will call him Drew," he enthusiastically exclaims to us.   I feel the weight of his words on my shoulders.  But I do not consider this weight to be a burden.  Instead, it heightens my spirits for the present and for the future.

    It is work, being an uncle, babysitting at unusual times of the day each week, trying to keep the baby interested and content.  Why is he crying...