Hey, everyone! I just thought I'd tell you all a bit about my life.
That sentence sounds incredibly lighthearted, but to be honest, my story isn't.
I admit, I haven't had it as bad as others. I'm alive, and I have a roof over my head. I am lucky, and compared to some, I've had it relatively easy.
But, enough with the intro, I'm going to go straight to it.
My parents, Terry and Christie, met in through mutual friends. They were both in the military (Coast Guard) and my dad proposed to my mom on Christmas morning. My dad had hidden the ring in the tree, and attached a note to it that had "Will you marry me?" written on it. My lovely grandma Pam made my dad "do it properly" and get on his knee. They were married soon after, and were later both stationed in Puerto Rico. Around this time, my grandma Reta developed lung cancer, and since my parents wanted her to meet one of their grand kids, got to work, and had my brother, Drew, in March of that year, however, Grandma Reta died a few months before my brother was born. My mom left the Coast Guard when she got pregnant with Drew.
I was born four years later in February in Petaluma, California. I was named Megan Anne Marie. Anne Marie was after Grandma Reta.
I wasn't born entirely healthy- I had a cleft lip and palate as well as a slight heart murmur, because of which I would have to take this foul medicine before I could get my teeth cleaned.
For those of you who don't know, cleft lip and palate is when the upper lip and palate (roof of the mouth) do not fully develop. For some people, it can just be one side of the lip, and others it can be both.
For me, it was both. There is a medical term for that, but for the life of me, I cannot remember it. I had to be fed with what's called a squeeze bottle, and I have one photo of my brother trying to feed me, but it looked more like he was shoving the bottle down my throat.
My first surgery was when I was a few months old, and it was basically just repairing my lip.
Life was fine, and we were a happy California family- two parents, two kids, and our "nanna" dog, Shasta.
But, when I was two, my mother packed her stuff and told my dad she wanted a divorce. I went with my mother, and we moved to Idaho, while my dad kept my brother and stayed in California.
I loved living with my mommy, but I did miss my brother and dad. My most happy memories always somehow involve Idaho.
Around three, I had another surgery- once again to repair my lip.
Also at that age, both my dad and my mom met other people.
My mom met Steve. He had three children of his own: Joey, Tyler, and Courtney. Despite not being related by either marriage nor blood, we were a family. I remember Courtney and I sharing a room and screaming about a dead moth in the shower. I remember Joey giving me rides in his shoulders around the house. I also remember going rafting with Tyler, Steve, Drew, and my mom. Soon enough, Steve asked my mom to marry him, and she said yes. We were happy.
But that too soon came to an end. I remember that day clearly, though at the time I totally confused. My mom walked in on Steve cheating on her, and in the time period of twenty minutes, we were moved back into our comfy brown house.
My dad met Kimberly on a Christian online dating website. She had two sons from her previous marriage as well: Michael and Patrick. Their relationship moved so quick there wasn't really enough time time for anything to go wrong. After about four months of dating, my dad proposed to her on Easter, and they were married in June. I was the flower girl with Chandler- the girl who would be like my sister in years to come. Patrick was supposed to be the ring bearer, but, him being only two, he threw a fit and someone else ended up with the job. Drew and Michael were my dad's best men.
