Grateful for Pain.
That word holds very different meaning to me now than it did a few years ago. I hate to say - I wasn’t a very thankful person back then. “High gear, go-go-go, on to the next thing, can’t-pause-for-anything-or-anyone” Megan was a force to be reckoned with.
A series of heartbreaks in varying forms slowed my roll.
Not at first. No- I resisted the “slowing down” pretty well. I worked a ton and helped others FEEL and wake up to their lives (funny huh?). I found myself hanging out with people who would allow me to stay surface-y. I shopped a lot. I always had some sort of device on. I continued working with a therapist who didn’t challenge me.
I did a lot to resist the shift into awareness of pain and heartbreak.
And so- as it does- life presented more heartbreaks and more opportunities which begged me to PAY ATTENTION.
Infertility crashed into my world pleading with me to wake up and to, interestingly enough, slowwwww down.
IUI. IVF. My first positive pregnancy test. My first miscarriage. A failed frozen embryo transfer. Multiple surgeries. Hundreds of injections. Painful procedures. Dozens of ultrasounds. Even more blood draws. Thousands of dollars. Hormones. Supplements. Therapy. Special diets. Acupuncture. Another miscarriage. A d&c.
I suppose one could stay unconscious through all of that, but thank goodness, I began to awaken. To feel. I found myself moving to a different rhythm. This was a slower pace - I was moving with a limp, and I was mostly ok with it. Because, you see, moving with a limp allows us to notice what’s happening around us. It illuminates the angels who come to our side to help us hobble along. It awakens us to the pain of others and allows us to sit with them in a different, more holy way. It uncovers hope upon hope upon hope. Pain reveals our strength and our beautiful humanness and begs us to honor it within ourselves and others.
And if that wasn’t enough. I began to fully experience that everything that happens is FOR us and for our growth and opening.
Yes really- everything.
My journey (pain and all) is a gift.
Whew. That last statement is a long time coming.
Please don’t misunderstand - I’m not saying I wouldn’t change things in a minute. Don’t think I don’t get misty eyed when I count the number of sweet babies in my life born during the years of relentlessly trying and hoping for our own. But this limp with which I walk gives new perspective that wouldn’t be mine if this journey to parenthood had been simple and short.
And so we just continue on unsure of what’s next, but hearts open. Hopeful. Awakening. Moving slower. Noticing. Opening. Becoming… Grateful.