"It takes a long time," she says with an easy smile, watching carefully as the milk makes its way past a parallel oxygen tube toward her child's tiny face.

To the uninitiated, the feeding ritual frays nerves. But for the O'Camb family, who has been "to baby hell and back," it's a celebration.

Over the weekend, three-month-old Luke was finally sprung from the hospital after a 100-day ordeal that riddled but never broke the family's resolve. Before his release, Luke experienced a historic heart surgery, emergency stomach surgery, brain bleeding, lung failure and pneumonia.

The parents - separated by a job that kept the father in St. George and mother at LDS Hospital - racked up half a million dollars in medical bills.

That wasn't the worst news.

Shortly after delivery on Dec. 8, Luke's twin brother, just one pound-five ounces, died at the hospital.

"We named him Chance because we thought he had a chance," utters George O'Camb from his couch, eyes steered on his fragile son.

As the O'Cambs recount their harrowing winter, daughters Audrey, 4, Brinley, 3, and son Hayden, 20 months, scurry about the split-level home. This was Luke's homecoming party after all, even though beeps and blips from his heart and oxygen monitor were frequently heard.

"It's been quite a ride for us," George sighs.

Each prior pregnancy came off without a hitch. But after complications forced three weeks of bed rest in her St. George home, Amanda, 25, was rushed to LDS Hospital in mid-November when her water broke.

Doctors there told her about the twins - "We about fell off the table" - and said delivery could likely wait until Christmas. Confined to the hospital, Amanda's three children were shipped to her parents in Holden, a small town near Fillmore. George, meanwhile, commuted across Utah from St. George every weekend to see his wife and kids.

Suddenly, the umbilical cord on one of the twins prolapsed, prompting an emergency delivery Dec. 8. The twins were 14 weeks premature.

Chance, who had the umbilical problem, did not survive; while Luke's fate appeared grim.

In the ensuing three days, George boxed the family belongings, buried Chance on "a cold but beautiful day" in Fillmore, and moved the family to West Point. Then, all focus switched to Luke - still in critical condition.

"It was a roller coaster of emotion," the 33-year-old father recalls.

Lungs failing, linked to a respirator, 2-pound Luke was given a 10-percent chance. At 10 days - too fragile to be moved to Primary Children's Medical Center - he underwent successful heart surgery. For the first time, the team of surgeons came to the newborn, instead of the other way around. "They were cheering when it worked," Amanda says.

But a week later, Luke got pneumonia and a severe stomach infection. Doctors feared digestive failure and this time rushed the infant to Primary Children's for a second surgery.

"They told us they thought he was going to die," remembers Amanda, while placing the boy down to sleep.

Family members offered religious blessings, which they now say seem like the turning point.

Antibiotics soon solved the stomach problem, and Luke slowly began to gain weight. Yet, he remained in the hospital to be monitored for nearly three more months.

Doctors say Luke, who also has a shunt to prevent swelling in the head, will likely grow to be healthy. But, the family notes, his current eating difficulty could also morph into serious motor skills issues including Cerebral Palsy.

Meantime, random acts helped lift the O'Cambs' spirits. With George out of work - but with COBRA and Medicaid health coverage - and camped at the hospital, a family friend provided the West Point home. George now works two jobs while Amanda cares for the four kids.

And over Christmas, anonymous donors left otherwise impossible gifts for the family. "It was incredible," the parents agree.

As the O'Cambs settle into their new life with Luke, signs of his twin abound. A porcelain mold of Chance's hand reaches up from a living room shelf. And a photo album includes pictures of both boys.

Amanda also tells a story of two sets of helium balloons that she and her mother bought for the kids. Each time - once over Valentine's Day and again this weekend for Luke's homecoming - one balloon escaped.

Nestled over her baby, Amanda's voice turns delicate.

"Chance got the balloon, huh," she says.

By now, Luke was fast asleep, calmed by the hum of his monitor.

djensen@sltrib.com