Life Story

My name is Megan Elizabeth Wiley. I haven't fought any battles, I have no super human powers, I've solved no mysteries, and I haven't experienced any tradgic losses. Why am I writing this then? Because I have to believe someone want to hear my story. That I won't live, die, and disappear. Whether anyone reads this or not, I left something behind. And, while there are people still alive that I don't want to hear some things, I refuse to edit my life. So here it is, the good and bad. The truth.

I was born at 3:54am on May 12, 1985, Mother's day. I don't remember this day obviously. I was told it was a difficult labor, that I had wrapped my embilical cord around myself like a seat belt. I think every birth is sensationalized for the child involved at some point and mine was no exception. I grew up picturing my birth on a stormy night, an exausted doctor cuts the embilical cord after hours of labor and starts to walk away, I shoot out with amazing velocity the doctor turning just in time to catch me as a nurse cries out, the doctor almost drops me in amazement. The reality? Doc was green. New to his craft and unsure of himself. He did cut the emblilical cord to free me but I didn't shoot out, and he didn't almost drop me. I did slide out quite easily at that point and he sent me to the NICU right away. He told my parents that my epiglotis, the flap that moves when you switch between swallowing and breathing, wasn't closing right and I was leaky. Nice image huh? Mom's pretty sure Doc was just covering his ass after cutting the embilical cord before I was completly out though.

Anyway, I was rushed to another hospital (Pipp, where I was born, was affectionantly nicknamed "the bandaid station" and didn't have the equipment to deal with me) to be kept in an incubator to have my breathing controled. There I was 7lbs 12 oz admist a bunch of premies. I looked like a giant. Mom, meanwhile, had just had her new baby taken from her on Mother's Day and Dad decided to take Sherry, my older sister, and go out to lunch with his mother, leaving mom all alone. Poor Mom.

I was born to a great family. I had my mom, Elizabeth Ruth, dad, Scott Patrick, and older sister Sherry Marie. Sherry was almost 3-years older than me. We were living in a 3-bedroom 2-bath house with a finished basement in Plainwell, MI. The house was the ugliest yellow-green color ever. Mom worked at a bank and Dad was switching jobs alot at that time, working at Montgomery Ward, a pizza place, and, eventually, coaching football and wrestling at Kalamazoo Highschool. I remember very little about the first 5 years of my life. Vauge memories about playing in my Grandparents's basements, various Christmas's, family reunions, and the random fight with my sister. Mom had a miscariage in that time, but all I remember about that is asking if it was a boy or girl and mom trying to explain that it was to small to tell.

I start remembering things about the time my Gran, dad's mom, got sick. Colon cancer. I remember sadness but not what Gran looked like after she got sick. Gran in my memory is a woman on the heavy side with shortish curly brown hair, sparkling eyes, and a loving smile. I know she was barly 5'4" but she'll always be taller then me in my mind.

The day my little sister was born was probably my first solid memory. Dad came into my room late at night. He tried to wake me, and suceeded though I'll never tell him that. I pretended to be asleep cause I knew he'd carry me if I didn't wake up. That he did. I loved being carried by my parents. At almost 6-years-old it didn't happen very often anymore. Dad, a football and wrestling coach, was strong, he used to do curls with my Sherry and I. I loved being held in those strong arms.

In the dark, Dad carried me and Mom held Sherry's hand as we walked across the street to the Copen's, who lived diagonally from us. "How come Megan get's carried?" Sherry asked, I peeked one eye open to see her glaring at me.
"Cause she's asleep, and I don't want to wake her." Mom replied. Sherry, knowing I was awake, stuck her tounge out at me.

We slept at the Copen's that night, and I played with Krystal, who was a year younger than me the next morning.