Baby Grayson is here!

Okay, okay...perhaps it was a bit presumptuous of me to assume I knew when our baby boy was going to get here. On March 24th, I wrote a post on this blog titled, "Two Weeks." Well...SIX DAYS LATER, Grayson arrived! I'm perfectly fine with being wrong about this one. I was so anxious to hold our little guy. Both he and mommy are healthy and doing great...it's a true blessing! Grayson Troy Glenn arrived at 9:18am on March 30th, 2009. He weighed 7 pounds, 7.3 ounces and was 19 inches long. If you'd like to see more photos, check out my facebook page. I've just uploaded an album of photos there. God bless! And thank you to all who were praying for a safe and healthy delivery! tim

Two Weeks

We are two weeks away from having a new baby in the house. The question I've been asked more than anything is: "Are you ready?" Well, the baby's room is done. (I'll post pictures in a day or so.) We have the diapers, the clothes, the lotions and all that stuff. But preparing for a child is much more than that, isn't it? In some ways, I don't think you can ever fully "prepare" for the arrival of a baby into your life. You just don't know what to expect. So yeah...we're ready...but in some ways, we're not. But that's part of the excitement too...to see what this beautiful gift from God is going to be, once it's "unwrapped." I am amazed at this plan of God's. I'm in awe of His design to have a baby grow in a mother's womb. This tiny little life, with a beating heart, a functioning brain, a circulatory system, lungs and other vital organs...all working in harmony...inside another human body. It's amazing to me. I keep asking Jen what it feels like to have him inside her. She says she can't fully describe it. Oh, what a tremendous blessing that must be! I can't wait to see what little Grayson Troy Glenn is going to look like. I can't wait to hold him in my arms...to run my fingers across his tiny little face...and count his tiny little fingers and toes. Two weeks. I just can't wait.

365 Days

365 days ago, I saw his face for the first time. That little pink, wrinkled face all scrunched up as he let out his first cry ever. What a sweet sound.

My little baby boy, Morgan Douglas Glenn was born. After years of prayers he was finally here. Poor Jen, she spent the next three hours in recovery, without being able to hold her baby boy.

I, on the other hand, spent every minute of those three hours with him. I was there for his first bath. There when they weighed his tiny 5 pound 3 and a half ounce frame. I rocked him in my arms for nearly two hours in the nursery...just staring at his perfect little face...listening to him coo. It was the sweetest two hours of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday. In fact, it feels like it was only yesterday.

I know it sounds cliche', but the 365 days that have passed since then have really flown by so fast. And Morgan has changed so much since then. He has so much personality. He flirts. He plays games. He sings. He's affectionate. He's so outgoing...he's never met a stranger.

As I wrote in a previous post, he started calling me "daddy" last week. As if my heart hadn't melted enough, that completely did me in.

What an amazing year this has been. It has been everything I ever hoped for...and more. To be a father is the greatest gift ever. To be a father to such a wonderful boy is beyond my comprehension.

365 days.

Happy birthday, my beautiful son. I love you so much.

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 him...as he took his first bath...got 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 www.timglennmusic.com

tim glenn

The Soles Of My Shoes Don't Get Dirty

Note: This blog was originally posted on December 7, 2006...but somehow I lost all of my blogs and am having to re-post them. July 17th, 2006 is a day I will never forget. It's the day I stopped walking on solid ground. It didn't start off so spectacular. For all intents and purposes it had the makings of a typical day. I got up at 6:45am, went to work, sat through a gajillion meetings, shuffled through emails and paperwork and came home. Nothing out of the ordinary. Until I walked into the house. I entered through the garage as usual. As soon as I opened the door, I noticed my wife standing in the kitchen smiling. On the kitchen table was a small gold gift box. "Open it." she said, grinning from ear to ear. "But my birthday isn't until tomorrow." "Just open it!"I sat in the chair at the dining table and grabbed the small box in my hand. What's inside? Why is Jen being so secretive. It's not like her. "Isn't it bad luck to open my birthday presents befo..." "Open it! She clinched jer jaw with the command, but she was still unable to hide her toothy grin. I lifted the lid of the tiny gold box. I was immediately confused by what I saw inside. It was a pocket watch, with the words "World's Greatest Dad" engraved on the outside. I must be a little slow because all I could think was "Is this her dad's old watch? Why would Jen's dad give me this watch? Is this something he's 'passing down to me' since he never had a son? What could this mean? I lifted the watch out of the box and underneath it was a pair of a blue baby socks...and a pair of pink ones. "You're going to be a daddy." My wife said, with tears welling up in her eyes.You have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words. My wife and I have been married for 12 years and it just hadn't happened for us. To be honest, I had given up on the hope of ever having a little baby in the house. But on July 17th, 2006, God breated new hope into our home. As tears poured out of my eyes uncontrollably, I hugged my wife. Then asked the question every man must ask at that moment: "Are you sure?" (How could such joy be based on reality?) "Yes. I took two tests just to make sure." She showed me the two pregnancy test sticks. Both positive. "Take it again!" I insisted. Which she did...all three positive! We danced in the kitchen...and the living room...and then stopped to pray. We thanked God for the blessing and prayed for a healthy baby that we could commit to Him. My father died when I was seven. I have only a couple of memories of him. Yet, I think I've always feared that I could never be half the man he was. Half the father he was. You see, my mother abandoned me and my siblings when I was five. My father spent the last two years of his life raising five children. And he was sick. He was dying. What a father. Could I be that kind of father to my child? Since July, my wife's little belly has grown. Occasionally, you can see a little nudge on the surface of her tummy...from the inside. Amazing. Every night, I place my head near her belly and listen to him moving around in there. Oh yes, it's a boy! We found out 20 weeks into the pregnancy. His name will be Morgan Douglas Glenn. Douglas was my father's name. After I listen for awhile, I talk to my son. I love the way he reacts to my voice. I wish I could hold him now. But, as God loves to do with me, I'm learning one more lesson in patience. Little Morgan needs that tiem in his mother's womb. So I must learn to wait. Ever since that hot July day, I have not walked on ground. My shoes have not touched the earth. I just hover. Most of the time I'm about six inches above the floor. Yeah, the soles of my shoes do not get dirty. I don't know if every man wants to be a father as much as I do. I don't know if every father-to-be yearns to hold his child like I do. I only know that I can't wait to hear that baby's cry....to hold him in my arms....to hear him call me "daddy" for the first time...to play with him on the floor and teach him all the things that little boys need to know. I can't wait to have him hold my hand as we cross the street or in the mall...whereever. And you can bet that, with every step, my feet will never touch the ground. For more information on Tim Glenn, go to www.timglennmusic.com tim glenn