There isn't going to be a last installment...

For Part One Click Here

For Part Two Click Here

For Part Three Click Here

For Part Four Click Here

For Part Five Click Here

For Part Six Click Here

For Part Seven, Dear Anonymous, Click Here

For Part Eight Click Here

For Part Nine Click Here

For The Bit After Part Nine But Before This Bit Click Here




There isn't one yet.

I've been thinking a lot about this.

I suppose that the last installment will be written by someone else a few days after I've left my cumbersome body and, hopefully, am experiencing some kind of fantastic afterlife, although I doubt it. (I used to believe in heaven but my views have changed since I first wrote out this story.) Hopefully everyone will have had a big ol' party celebrating what a fandamntastic life I had. I hope that it is said of me that I loved and that I loved well and that I did not run away from life but right smack into it, that I wrestled with it and danced with it and high-fived it, and that maybe I wasn't graceful about it but, "Goodness gracious did she ever live every last drop out of her life."

I will not live life afraid.

But, also hopefully, none of you will have to think about any of this for, oh I dunno, let's say...sixty-three more years. I'm having a birthday on September 14th where I shall turn thirty-two whole years of age and to live sixty-three more years would put me right at ninety-five and, right now, I think that is a very respectable age to have managed to have accomplished.

Now, when I have reached ninety-five and I'm still a blast and hanging out and living large I'll reconsider.

Are you still with me, gentle reader?

I don't know why I just called you a "gentle reader". No, wait, yes I do. It's 'cause I was watching a Ken burns documentary on Mark Twain and Mark Twain used the term, "gentle reader" and pretty much anything Mark Twain said is something one should repeat.

And should it be Gentlereader? Like Gentlemen and Gentlewomen?

I digress.

Let me at least fill you in on what happened after the debacle of the Paul and Puck show.


To back up a bit, the very same day Puck called Zack was the very same day I posted this post.

So, what did I do after the Paul and Puck show?

I went back to packing that's what I did. That's what we both did.

It was time to move our two separate households into one.


Phoenix and I were so excited to get out of the upstairs of Zack's studio which is where we had been living for eight whole months. Sharing a 13 x 10 foot room. But that's another part of the story altogether.

But, and this is obvious, the moment I treasured most was the moment all married couples treasure.

The first night when one climbs into bed, next to your beloved, and you get to stay there. You don't have to go home.

It feels impossible to try and put into words the joy we felt. Such a simple thing to go to sleep next to the person you love. But you all know a bit of what we went through to get there, and what I've told you isn't even all of it, and so to simply write,

"We went to sleep," feels surreal.

But that is just what we did.


Those last few days of July and the beginning of August were a whirlwind.

Zack and I never got the chance to go on a honeymoon and so, because I had a tour on the west coast in August, and he had a couple of OneLight Workshops to teach out west too, we flew out to Seattle together and had two weeks of us time, between shows and workshops, before he flew home and I flew to San Diego to finish out the last two weeks of my tour.

It sucked when he left for home.

I missed my family. I missed Zack, I missed Phoenix, I missed Caleb and Joshua.

I was conflicted. I love music. I love to play. I love that 45-60 minutes when I can get lost in the music. But the music business? That I am not fond of. But, it seemed that that was the price I had to pay in order to do what I loved to do.

But, driving up from San Diego en route to Los Angeles for the next show, with my guitarist extraordinaire Michael, asleep next to me in the passenger seat, I was doing a lot of thinking about how stretched I was feeling. How hard this was going to be to blend a family and try to tour. Should I? Shouldn't I?

(This is Michael Westbrook.  His guitar-er-ing is incredible. This was taken backstage at Cafe du Nord in San Francisco...)

A few days later Zack's step-dad, Craig, passed away while I was back in Seattle to play another show and I seriously considered canceling the next night's show in Portland and flying to Charlotte, North Carolina to be there for his funeral. Zack talked me out of it, said that I needed to finish the tour, and so I did, with a heavy heart.

I finished my tour in Portland, flew home, and the very next day left for Sandestin, Florida for another show. Ipicked up Phoenix from school, got us both packed and we hit the road.

You know what was rotten about that? I got to see Zack for 12 whole hours.

Phoenix and I just soaked each other up. I missed him like macaroni misses cheese.

The drive down to Florida was fine except that I just felt -- weird.

I couldn't put my finger on it. I tried, to do so, too, poking my stomach, poking my legs, and my back trying to figure out just why I felt so...funny.

The night after my show in Florida, Phoenix begged for breakfast from the hotel room service and, when the food arrived, I lifted the lids and there lay a gorgeous Belgian waffle for Phoenix and Eggs Benedict for me.

I must've made a face because Phoenix said,

"What's wrong, Mommy?"

"It's just that my reaction to this food would normally be one of YUM! Instead, it's one of meh. No thanks."

In fact, I felt queasy. And I noticed my sense of smell was off the hook. Off the chain.  Off the map.

All you ladies out there know what's up, yes?

I still didn't.

The fact that I could very well be pregnant with none other than an actual human had not registered in my brain at all.

I have something called PCOS, have had three miscarriages, and was told that having Phoenix was a miracle because...(All you dudes! Look over there!) my inner lady parts don't play well together.

"Prepare yourself," my last OB/GYN said. "You most likely will never be able to have any more children."

When Zack and I had talked about the prospect of having more kids I wrote it off as a loss.

"It's not even an issue. I can't have anymore anyway. While I would love to see what a Zack and Meghan baby would look like, sadly, it's not going to happen."

Phoenix and I headed home from Florida and it was somewhere between Eufala, Alabama and Columbus, Georgia that my brain sat bolt upright.


"What? What is it?"

"You feel pukey. You feel tired. You have the smelling capabilities of a Marvel comic Superhero. You feel funny in general. You see where I'm going with this?"

"Uh. You don't mean - a baby?"

"YES. That's is what I'm telling you, you. A baby."

But, because I am SO smart, I dismissed it.

"Silly brain. I have screwed up inner lady parts."

So, since my brain wasn't getting through to me, life decided to.

At a Chinese restaurant, as per usual.

Phoenix and I had arrived home and he wanted Chinese food, and since Zack was second shooting a wedding that weekend, we went.

I didn't eat much. But I did crack open my fortune cookie.

It read,

"The answer to the question you were asking will come about in the most unlikeliest of places."

I practically spit out my drink. My "should I" or "shouldn't I" question was about to be answered.

"C'mon Phoenix, we gotta go."

"Where are we going?  Are we going home?"

"Not just yet.  Mommy has to stop by the drugstore for something first."

I bought four pregnancy tests.

I put Phoenix to bed, and instead of waiting until the next morning, like the test suggested that I should, I whipped the first test out right then and there at 9 p.m. and didn't even have to wait the two minutes the test said it would take to display the results because - WHAMMO - it was positive.

I looked in the mirror and I was shaking.

"Holy Shit."

And I started laughing.  And I started crying.

"Mommy?  Are you okay?" Phoenix was calling to me from his bedroom.

I went to his room and was immediately struck by how huge he was.

"I'm fine, little man. Wait. Wow. You are such a big guy now, huh? I remember when you were a little baby!  You were a baby!  A baby!  You were a baby and I used to carry you around without effort and you were little and tiny and!"

I was babbling.

"Um. Okay, mommy. G'night now, okay?"

I had a martini ready for Zack when he got home that night.

Told him to close his eyes.

Placed the positively positive test in his hands.

He was speechless.

We were 258 days away from meeting this guy.

Hawke Danger July 2010
Hawke Danger July 2010

The fortune cookie was right. The arrival of Hawke Danger did provide an answer to the questions I had been mulling over in the car driving north through California. This doesn't mean that I don't struggle still with how music is to fit into my life - if you've read any of my previous blog posts before you ought to know that by now - but it was the best thing for me and my family. It was hard going to my manager and saying, "You know that album that I just released that I was supposed to tour my butt off in support of? Yeah well...something's come up...".

But he's the best something that has come up ever. I cannot imagine my life without Hawke in it.


This has not been the best bit of writing thus far, and for that I apologize. I've been working on this post for a few hours now, in between feeding, and playing with, and picking up after the aforementioned human that Zack and I made. Zack gets home from Las Vegas tonight and I am aching to see him.

We've been married a little over two years now.  And it was two years ago this weekend that I found out I was pregnant with Hawke.  But, oh how full our life has been!  Feels like so much longer than that, in a good way.

My story, thus far, is a crazy one, and I thank you for sticking it out this long.  It's been a beautiful thing to write this all down.

Thanks for reading.