Megan Kinney

Ever since high school, I feared I would struggle with infertility because I had issues with ovarian cysts and irregular cycles. After Kevin and I had been married a year and a half, we were excited to announce that I was pregnant. To my delight, I hadn’t had any struggles conceiving.

From the beginning of our marriage, our plan was to have two kids, then adopt a baby. We loved the idea of providing a home for a child in need of one. So when our daughter, Emma, was two we decided to try to get pregnant again. This time the struggle I had feared became reality.

After over a year of trying, we started infertility medication. I had taken two doses when one night I woke up in severe pain. It eventually went away so I shrugged it off as gas pain. A couple of months later, my friend and I had plans to go to lunch at our favorite bagel shop. It was a few days until Christmas.

As I was getting ready, I felt an overwhelming sickness flow through me. I couldn’t tell you what was wrong, only that I was very sick. I called for my four-year old to get her dad, who was sleeping off a night shift. She woke him up saying, “Daddy, mommy needs you. You can sleep later.”

I’m not sure why, but I had Kevin call my OBGYN instead of our family doctor. They squeezed us in and during an ultrasound discovered that I had an ectopic (tubal) pregnancy. They scheduled my surgery for later that afternoon and sent me home. My usual doctor was off that day but heard about my situation when she went in for an office potluck. She called to tell me that she was doing my surgery, that they got my lab work back, and wanted me to go straight to the surgical hospital as they were moving up my surgery.

At the hospital, they calmly brought me back to pre-op and had my husband start paperwork. While the nurse was taking my blood pressure, I felt light headed. She asked me if I could raise my hand. I shook my head. She commanded me to raise it. I told her I couldn’t, then passed out. Later, I discovered that my blood pressure was 80/20 (it is usually 120/80), that I had a partially ruptured fallopian tube, and had lost about half my blood volume. They took me into the operating room where my doctor stopped the bleeding and saved the tube. All the while my husband and parents were in the waiting room wondering why they hadn’t been able to see me before the surgery.

Weeks later, I ran into my pre-op nurse at the movies. She was overcome with emotion as she told me who she was and how scared she had been when I passed out. She had acted with amazing clarity and professionalism as she called for help and started an IV in her unconscious patient. She then asked if she could hug me.

I learned many things from this near-death experience. I learned that I needed to listen to my body. I knew there had been something wrong since that night that I woke up in extreme pain. There were lot of signs that things weren’t right. I learned that sometimes God’s plans for my life are different than my plans and not to push my agenda when I feel it’s not right. I learned that there are some amazing people in the medical field, who are affected by their patients even if the patients never know. The doctors, nurses, and even the clerical staff were a huge blessing to me and my family.

We learned that the chances of getting another ectopic pregnancy rose significantly after the first. After such a traumatic experience, we decided that continuing down the pregnancy path wasn’t God’s plan for us.

As my body healed, we started researching adoption. That’s when we discovered the hefty price tag that came with it. While we were blessed to be Emma’s parents, we felt our family wasn’t quite complete. However, we had no idea what challenges awaited us.

To be continued…

With the upcoming release of my debut novel lots of people have told me about their love of writing and desire to be a published author. It’s been quite the adventure. I didn’t decide to write a novel one day then get it published the next. It took years of writing, failing, and learning.

Writing always came natural to me. I was upset when my high school English teacher kept cutting down the pages required for our research project until it went from thirty pages to three. In college, essay tests were my favorite. Along with a love for the written word, I’ve had an active imagination since childhood.

When I was pregnant with my oldest, I decided to write a novel. My husband read part of it and told me I had a gift, confirming what I already thought. You can imagine my shock when the publishing company I sent my beloved novel to rejected it.  After fifteen more years and two more rejections, I learned the secret to getting published…hard work.

I learned that…just because I liked to write didn’t mean I was good at it. Since the first rejection I began taking classes and reading books on writing books. Even now I’m in the middle of two books on writing a novel. You can never learn too much about the craft you love.

I learned that…I need to ask for help from other writers. I love being a part of an online critique group of ladies who have given their honest and skilled critiques of my work. While I value the opinions of my family and friends, I needed the advice of fellow writers in order to sharpen my skills. I joined social media groups specifically for authors with thousands of other writers. They post book recommendations, other internet resources, answer questions, and post a ton of valuable advice. Also, I started a writer’s group where we encourage each other and offer advice when needed.

I learned that…I needed to step out of my comfort zone and attend a writers’ conference. This is by far the most important step I’ve ever taken on the road to becoming published. They are packed full of learning and networking opportunities. I’ve met with agents, successful authors, editors, and publishers on a one on one basis and attended classes with amazing teachers speaking on essential topics. Then in between classes and appointments, I met other aspiring authors who were full of encouragement.

If writing has always been your dream, but you feel discouraged, don’t give up. All it takes is hard work….lots of it.

August 2, 2011 my husband, Kevin, called me. “I’m okay, but….” Those words would forever haunt me as he went on to share that three Rapid City Police officers were shot. As a South Dakota State Trooper, Kevin was on his way to help guard the perimeter.

I didn’t know the officers who were shot, but for hours all I could do was pray and desperately wait for more information. My husband is a forensic mapper and was out all night mapping the crime scene. When Kevin finally returned home, he gave me the devastating news that one officer didn’t survive, and two were in critical condition. A few days later, the second officer died and the third, thankfully, survived.

Police officer’s wives were mobilized, selling bracelets and t-shirts in order to unite our community in support of our mourning law enforcement officers. They tied blue ribbons from the funeral home to the Civic Center, where the funerals were to be held. At the funeral of the first officer, I sat next to Kevin in the packed arena. The floor was filled with officers from every agency in the city, several throughout the state, and many from surrounding states.

Following a heartfelt message, they asked us to be quiet for last call. I had never experienced such a bittersweet moment. After a series of  beeps, the dispatcher called the ID number for the fallen officer twice, only to be met with blaring silence. After the third time, she adds his name, then ends by giving him permission, in a ten-code, to go “home”.

The dispatcher that gave “last call” also dispatched the call when the officers were shot. My heart hurt for her, and I couldn’t get that experience out of my head. I had never thought of the tough job dispatchers have until that moment. They are the first voice you hear when your world is crashing down. They experience horror on a daily basis and have to react professionally and calmly, doing their best to give and send help.

Previously, I had put my writing on hold to raise my family. Our daughter was eight and we were caring for three sisters in foster care, who we would later adopt. But the story of a dispatcher struggling with burnout wouldn’t leave my mind. I had to write her story for my own closure. Years later, I decided to attend a writer’s conference. I chose that story to pitch to editors, publishers, and agents just to gain experience. I had no idea they would like it and ask to see more. Five months later I signed a contract for my debut novel, Dakota Peace.

While I’m humbled that my book will soon be published, I will never forget the young men who sacrificed their lives, or the pain of their fellow officers, first responders, and dispatchers. “The thin blue line” represents the officers who have sworn an oath to uphold the laws and protect their citizens from those who want to harm them. They are the blue line of defense between good and evil, and their families become the “blue” family who stand behind them.

Kevin and I met in college at South Dakota School of Mines and Technology. He was a civil engineer student, and I was in pre-nursing. Our lives took many twists and turns since then. We both graduated with Interdisciplinary Science Majors, his emphasis was in law enforcement and mine in psychology.  We were hired with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship and asked to serve on the campus of UND in Grand Forks, ND. After a few years, Kevin’s dream to become a State Trooper soon became a reality, and we moved back to South Dakota where I became a stay-at-home mom, writing unpublished books.

Kevin soon found his true passion….crash reconstruction. It combined his love for law enforcement with his engineering (3.5 years of civil classes) background.  Kevin loved the profession of crash reconstruction so much that he often used his vacation days and any extra money we could scrape together to attend regional and national crash conferences. He even passed the national crash reconstruction certification (ACTAR) the first time he took it, which is a rare accomplishment.

When the SD Highway Patrol decided to improve their Crash Reconstruction program by adding a program director, Kevin knew this was his new dream job. In 2011, he was promoted to this position.

Over five years ago, he was challenged by a leader in the crash recon field to finish his engineering degree. We were both a bit hesitant at this new adventure. I was worried that he would be stretched too thin and our family would suffer for it. He was worried that he’d struggle in classes based on engineering and calculus classes he’d taken almost a decade earlier. But I encouraged him to step out in faith, and he enrolled in the mechanical engineering program at our Alma mater.

In the last five years, he has woken up long before the sun to start his day, working a couple of extra hours each night to make up for the time he’s in class. After some family time, he would spend the rest of the evening working on homework. Each weekend was split between school and family. We made our family and church a priority, but every spare minute he was studying. This last year, he joined the BAJA team for his senior design project. They spent every Saturday from eight to four designing and building a BAJA car, which they named The Bandit from Smokey and the Bandit and inspired by Kevin’s job. They’ll race it in the national competition held in southern California in the middle of May.

On May fourth, Kevin will receive his bachelor of science diploma in mechanical engineering. It has been a long, twisty, and bumpy road. We have all had to make sacrifices, sometimes gladly, sometimes with a twinge of resentment. We are overjoyed that he is about to finish this race (figuratively and literally). I could not be prouder of the extreme effort he’s exerted in order to reach this milestone, and along the way made some new, lifelong friends, and plenty of great memories.

Congratulations Kevin…. I love you!

“For I know the plans for you,” declares the LORD. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

I like that verse. I don’t have it tattooed on my body or painted on my walls, but it gives me comfort. To know that the LORD has plans to prosper me and give me a hope and a future settles the angst in my heart. Until, someone will tell me that I can’t claim that verse for myself. Why not? Well, it was written by the prophet Jeremiah for the Israelites forced from Judah into exile. Only they have a future full of hope.

Then there’s Zephaniah 3:17, “The LORD, Your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing.” That verse was on our adoption announcements, and I painted it on a beautiful, bug wood slab and hung it on my wall. But that verse was written for the Israelites returning from exile. Apparently, only exiles get beautiful verses.

Now, don’t get me wrong. If we’re going to quote the Bible, we need to understand it, especially, if we have it tattooed on our calf. The Bible is the inspired word of God, and there is a lot to unpack between the faded and scuffed leather covers. Theologians have argued major points for centuries and still don’t agree. Bible verses have been used out of context for generations in order to abuse and manipulate people.

But there are some things we can all agree on. Our God is a good God, who does know our future. He has plans for us and doesn’t want to harm us. He wants us to have hope. Of course, that doesn’t mean our lives will be without trouble. If that was so then Jesus would have been mistaken when He told us that “in this world you will have trouble, but take heart I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) and if we’re told to “consider it pure joy…whenever you face trails of many kinds” (James 1:2) perhaps our definition of prosper is a bit different than God’s.

The character of God, who inspired Jeremiah to encourage the exiles in their darkest moment, has not changed in the 2,500 plus years since. He still has plans for us, and He takes great delight in us, rejoicing over us with singing, and depending on which translation you read, He might just dance over us too.

So keep your needle points and stenciled walls and be encouraged by the word of God, even if you aren’t in exile.

Many years ago Kevin and I went backpacking in the Little Big Horns with some friends. As we were hiking a particularly steep mountain, Jason, a friend with far more experience, told us to take very small steps, or we’d be too tired to reach the summit. It worked, and we conquered that mountain and gained our reward…a glimpse of God’s glorious creation.

Those words have stayed with me even as the view has faded from memory.

Today my editor sent back my manuscript for the first round re-write. Every page is filled with colorful comments on how to improve it. It seems impossible and hopeless…I’ll never get all these edits read much less fixed.

As I stretch my head back and gaze at the monumental “hike” in front of me I am overwhelmed by the steep task. Only by taking small steps will I have the stamina to make it to the top.

Are you facing a seemingly hopeless goal? Do you think the end result seems impossible? You may not know what the next mile will look like, and it may take all the strength you have, but do it. Take that first step even if you have to do it on your tiptoes. Celebrate even the smallest victories and enjoy the view when you reach the summit.

When I learned the idea of a blog I was thrilled. I love to write and had hoped to become a published writer. A blog seemed like the best way to start, but then every one else thought that too. I don’t like doing what everyone else is doing so I never became a blogger.

From an early age I loved stories. My first favorite, The Monster at the End of this Book, is still on my top 10 of best fiction list. Seriously, if you have never read that book you’re missing out…big time! If you want the full experience read it to a toddler as they turn the pages. Author Jon Stone is a literary genius. Then I fell in love with the Nancy Drew books. Interestingly, the author, Carolyn Keene, is actually a pseudonym for the different ghost writers who have contributed to this series. (Just discovered that on Wikipedia, as I was researching for this blog. ) My love for fiction grew as I discovered Jane Austen and immersed myself into  her novels. 

It never fails, when other readers hear of my love for reading fiction they often recommend their favorites. I love adding new books to my To Read List, but I only want to read feel-good, clean, romances. My critics tell me those aren’t realistic. To them I say, “I read to escape real life. I’m a mom of four girls, a wife of a law enforcement officer, I’ve been a foster mom for over ten years, and I watch the news. Believe me when I say I have had enough of the real world. I want to read about happy endings.” I’ve read books where the main characters have no hope. That’s not realistic.  We live in a world full of hope. “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart I have overcome the world.” That’s from the best romance book ever written, by the best hero of all….Jesus.

However, last May I attended a writers’ conference in the majestic Rocky Mountains and the idea of a blog was suggested as the best way to introduce myself  as a fiction writer. Just calling myself an author seems surreal, but coming in April 2020 I will be just that, a published author. So I’ve been dragging my proverbial feet along the South Dakota landscape and occasionally looking up how to do this whole blog/website/technology thing. And it ended up being far harder than I anticipated (should have taken C++ instead of Hardware and Networking in college). I can’t promise my future blogs will be anymore interesting than this one…but I do believe in hope. And if you’ve stuck with me this far pick up your closest copy of The Monster at the End of this Book and don’t be afraid to turn the pages.