The Gift of Life

I never thought that one small child could transform my entire world in such a short amount of time. At the end of sophomore year, my family welcomed my new cousin Morgan into the world. My whole life, I had been surrounded by guys in my family, and I was so excited to have another girl in my life. From the moment my aunt first found out that she was having a girl, I was constantly spending time with them to brainstorm name ideas. I have always been close with my aunt and uncle, more so than my other family members. I love spending time with them and their son Matthew, who is almost exactly ten years younger than me. I have always been able to turn to them for advice, or for any kind of help when I needed it. I was beyond excited for them to become new parents again, and I was also excited to welcome my new cousin into the family.

On my first day of exams sophomore year, I received a text from my uncle stating the new baby’s full name and weight. She was named Morgan, and even having an exam for my least favorite class couldn’t erase the smile off my face. I couldn’t wait to finally get to meet her, and I was impatient for the school day to end so I could make my way to the hospital with my parents and her big brother Matthew. I was so nervous arriving at the hospital, but as soon as I walked into her room, the nerves turned into excitement. I watched Matthew run into the room with a big smile on his face, so beyond excited to be a big brother. Watching him hold her and seeing the family come together with the new addition warmed my heart, and we couldn’t be happier. It may sound cheesy, but from the moment I had first held her, I knew that we had some sort of crazy bond. I knew she would change my life in some way, but I had no idea what I was in for.

Throughout this time, Morgan’s older brother Matthew was staying with us while his parents adjusted to the newborn. Less than 24 hours after first visiting her, we got a phone call from my uncle stating that Morgan had been transferred to the intensive care unit of a different hospital. My dad had picked me up from school as soon as it was dismissed and we rushed to the hospital to see exactly what was going on. When we arrived, we had found out that Morgan was going to be staying for at least a few days to be closely monitored and have multiple tests done. She was hooked up to wires that had monitored her heart and breathing rates.

It was evident that her parents were trying to put on a brave face, and that they were pretending that they knew everything for sure was going to work out, but in reality they were terrified, and secretly falling apart. My parents and I spent endless nights at the hospital, and for the rest of that exam week I was lucky if I had gotten to bed by 2 AM. I had to push aside studying for exams and spent my time after school trying to be a form of support through the fear and uncertainty.

If I wasn't at the hospital with my aunt, uncle, and Morgan, I was with her brother Matthew. I had to take care of him on my own for hours at a time, and also keep my eye out for any updates from my parents. I often would take him to the nearby park and spend hours on end playing silly games and running around outside. I had to mask the fear and keep a brave face when he asked questions about his little sister that we all had wished we knew the answers to. I wanted the answers just as much as everyone else did, but I was also terrified of what could go wrong. I’d spend my sleepless nights praying that Morgan would be okay, and that everything would work for her and her family.

Once school had ended, it was easier to spend time at the hospital. I would spend hours just sitting there, holding Morgan in my arms. I’ll never forget the way her big eyes first looked up at me, or the way she would just sleep on me for hours. I would stare at the flashing and fluctuating numbers on the screen that showed her heart and oxygen rates, and my heart would race as I watched the numbers drop to the red zone. I would sit there feeling helpless and terrified, praying that the numbers would go back into the normal range. I’d hold my breath until they rose again, and try to hide the fear I had of something going wrong. I would go home and spend my nights still worrying and checking in with my aunt and uncle, wanting to make sure that they knew we were there for anything that they may need.

We later had found out that Morgan had been diagnosed with PCH2, which is a rare genetic disorder where the cerebellum, which is part of the brain, is underdeveloped. Common factors of this disorder are a lack of voluntary movement such as grasping objects, sitting or walking, problems with swallowing, and the lack of speech. Random movements of stiffness and impaired vision are also common among those diagnosed.

Morgan had to have a feeding tube surgically inserted into her stomach to aid her with her eating, and after a long 12 days, was finally released from the hospital. My parents and I were constantly over to visit and help my aunt and uncle with preparing meals and keeping the house clean. Morgan also had visiting nurses check in with her once to two times per day for the first few weeks of her life.

Now, Morgan will be turning two-years-old in June, and even though we are unsure what her future may hold, we count every day we have with her, and every smile she gives us a blessing. We still spend a large amount of time with her, her brother, and her parents, and even after all she has been through, she still manages to share her adorable little smile with us. My aunt and uncle had always been there for me, and now it was my turn to step up and help them out when they needed it the most. I have never been closer to them, and now not only can I count on them when I need something, they know that they can count on me as well.