I’m sharing this because I was blindsided by my miscarriage and felt/feel very isolated by what has happened. Miscarriage is extremely common, possibly in upwards of 1 in 4 pregnancies. Personally, I didn’t know anyone that had shared their miscarriage story, that could fully understand what I was feeling, what I was grieving. Miscarriage is something a lot of people don’t talk about – it’s hard, it’s grief, it’s uncomfortable. But, it happens and we shouldn’t be ashamed, we shouldn’t hide it in our hearts, we need to be open to talking about it.
I’m hilarious… I could tell you any multitude of stories that would have you laughing until you pee your pants. I’m also shy about sharing said stories. Sometimes I laugh at the wrong time and smile when it’s totally inappropriate.
So the title of this post let the cat out of the bag. Maybe I should have gone with something more like “It has to do with my ovaries & mood swings” or “That time I had too much testosterone” or “You know what sucks? My ovaries”. Guess the commitment to my creative juices just wasn’t flowing when I wrote that one out.
You know that moment when you’re watching someone do something so benign and mundane that you’re not even sure why you keep watching? But you do. After a few seconds go by you notice them slowing lighting up at that ridiculous little thing? Tell me you know what I’m talking about. That “thing” could be finallyContinue reading “It’s the small things.”
Those girls, the ones I used to sit in my 1998 red Chevy Blazer with, day dreaming and arguing about who would be who’s maid of honor, aren’t those girls for me anymore. They weren’t the maid of honor at my wedding, they weren’t bridesmaids at my wedding… in fact, they weren’t even there.
It didn’t matter what it was. It didn’t matter what my odds were of it happening. The variable didn’t matter because it didn’t change the way I thought, the way I prepared or how scared I was of not only letting myself down, but more so, letting everyone else down and allowing them to see me fail.
Do I just live, intentionally, in the moment or is this the year to push, intentionally, for change?
Almost two months after saying I do, I took the trip to the social security office and made it official. I retired Megan Stout and became Megan Stecker. I can’t say that I feel at home in the name. Stout will always have my heart and it patters just a bit every time I think about it (oh! nostalgia how you get me every time), but I’m growing into it more and more each day. Christian and I, we’re the Steckers, we’re partners, we’re in it together. And that, for me, is how it should be.
I’m not perfect, my writing isn’t perfect, it never will be. And, I’m ok with that. Connecting, sharing, enjoying and participating will always, always take priority over perfection.
So, what do I do? I call my mom. I chose my mom because Christian doesn’t need me to plant any further seeds that he married a lunatic. The conversation goes like this: