Friday, June 8, 2007

Baby Morgan is Here!

Note: This blog originally posted on March 27, 2007. But somehow I lost all my blogs and am having to re-post them.
Let me tell you about the best day of my life. In actuality, I should say "the best 24-hour period of my life" because it spanned two days on the calendar. It began around noon on Tuesday, March 20th. My wife Jen, 39 weeks pregnant (typical pregnancies are based on a 40-week period, for those of you who don't know) started having contractions about every ten minutes. Well, we're not supposed to go to the hospital until the contractions are 3-5 minutes apart. So my poor wife had to endure the painful contractions at 10 minutes apart...for nearly 12 hours! It was exciting, because we knew this meant that baby Morgan was one day closer to being here. But it was frustrating when the contractions refused to get any closer...hour after hour...after hour. Finally, around 11pm, the contractions did start getting a little closer. 7 minutes...5 minutes...3 minutes. Once they were consistently 3 minutes apart, we headed to the hospital. The doctor checked us into a small room and put Jen on a monitor. "She's 3 centimeters dilated." she told us. (You can't have the baby til you're around 10 centimeters dilated. We still had a way to go.) So they continued to monitor Jen and the contractions kept coming...getting as close as 2 minutes apart. After about four more hours of this, the doctor checked Jen again. Still only 3 centimeters apart! All that painful work...and no progress! So the doctor decided to put Jen on pitosin--a drug that would increase the frequency--and intensity--of the contractions. After about an hour on the drug, Jen progressed to 4 centimeters. But the contractions had become terribly painful. So, we opted for the epidural--a painkiller administered into the spine that pretty much takes away all feeling from your waist down. It was a scary decision, but once it was administered, Jen never felt another contraction. But it wasn't over yet. After another hour, the doctor noticed that baby Morgan's heart rate was decreasing every time Jen had an intense contraction. They tried having her roll over to the opposite side she was lying on...but that didn't work. So they monitored closely. His heart rate kept dipping...dipping...dangerously low. We both began to worry. I sent out nearly two dozen text messages, asking friends to pray. And I prayed myself.
"Please God, don't let us get this close and lose this little boy. I can't take it. My heart can't take it. Please bring him to us safely...bring us a healthy baby boy."
After a couple more dips in heart rate, the doctor decided to take Jen off the pitosin and schedule a c-section. With lightning speed, the nurses were in our room, wheeling Jen's bed out the door, down the hallway and up a ramp into the operating room. They gave me a mask, gown, hat and shoe coverings to wear. It was amazing seeing the doctors scramble so fast--like watching a hospital drama. Within minutes, Jen was laid out on the table. A blue sheet was laid out like a curtain between her and the doctors, so she couldn't watch the operation. I, on the other hand, was able to watch. I've sat in on a few operations in my life, so I knew I could handle the sight. (I gotta say though, knowing that it's your wife that they're cutting open is a little different.) The doctors made the incision, then started cutting through muscle and tissue. Suddenly, the doctor stopped cutting and reached both of her hands inside of my wife's abdomen. She dug around for a few seconds, then pulled her hands out and they were holding a little baby's head. He has dark hair! They clipped the umbilical cord and suctioned out his mouth and noise within a milisecond. Then it came...that sound I've waited so many years to hear:
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!" Oh, what a beautiful sound!
"Who has the dimpled chin?" the doctor asked.
"Dimpled chin?"
"Yeah, he's got a dimpled chin."
"My dad had one. But I didn't really inherit it. Wow...he's got my dad's chin. How cool is that?"

He cried as they scrambled his little body over to a warmer a few feet away...and started cleaning him up. Tears filled my eyes. "That's my son! Oh...and he's beautiful!" My poor wife had to lay there behind the blue curtain, still unable to see anything. So, once they got him cleaned up, I carried our son over to her and let her touch his face. The waterworks were flowing for both of us at that point, I tell ya! They had to sew Jen up and then she had to go into recovery from the operation. That took three hours. Three hours without getting to hold her newborn son. It must have been excruciating for her. But I spent every second of those hours with he took his first his vaccinations...tested for every imaginable abnormality...and weighed him. "Five pounds...3 and a half ounces. He's a little peanut." nurse Libby said. "18 inches long. What a cute little guy." Yep, he's a tiny guy....but absolutely adorable. Once all the tests were done, I sat in a rocking chair with him for an hour...and we just stared at each other. "Morgan...I'm your daddy." It was the same sentence I started with every night, as I spoke to him through my wife's belly during her pregnancy. Now, I finally get to see the face of the little boy I was addressing...and he could see where the voice was coming from. It was an amazing time of bonding. I truly have fallen in love. I've wanted to be a daddy for so long and now God has granted me this wish...this little blessing that is the result of years of prayers. It is amazing. The most wonderful day of my life. Welcome to our world, little Morgan Douglas Glenn. We've waited a long time for you.

For more information on Tim Glenn, go to

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