Updated: Mar 23
I’m Meg, I’m 20, and I am an editor and friend within MRKH Stars.
Although I have never had the stress and anxiety of having tests and the fear of the unknown related to the diagnosis, the journey hasn’t been black and white. I cannot even begin to try and understand the fear and worry of those with the diagnosis, but the fear for those that you love, whilst trying to offer support in any way you can isn’t easy either.
I remember being told for the first time. We had just begun to settle into university life and close friendships began to develop. Settling into life on the other side of the country wasn’t easy and we were able to support each other through the uncertainty and anxiety as we were able to relate to each other; it was new territory for everyone. When Vics told me about her diagnosis and the journey she had recently been through before embarking on the adventure of university I was confused and lost for words. It was something I felt like I couldn’t help with. I couldn’t personally relate, and I didn’t know where to start. I had never heard of the syndrome before but didn’t want to overload my close friend with questions, I wanted to be her support. Upon hearing about her experience telling a friend that was not understanding towards the fear and affect this had on her. My priority was to ensure she had me to speak to. I wanted to make sure I was a port of call if I was ever needed, even though I didn’t understand fully.
That evening, after I was told, I researched the diagnosis. I read articles and blogs about the origins and what this meant for my friend as I didn’t want to burden her with the thousands of questions I had. It was a situation where I felt I needed to emphasise my being there for her, rather than me becoming engulfed with the diagnosis that I hadn’t heard of. It was a while before I realised that speaking and asking questions was okay. Rather than relying on google searches, I wanted to learn more about what this entailed for my friend, what this meant physically and emotionally.
Of course, overcoming the confusion and awkwardness of being unsure of how to ask about MRKH isn’t where the complication ends. Watching someone so close to you go through something so complex and rare is never easy and it is okay to be overwhelmed about asking questions and making mistakes or misunderstanding. Even with the harder days of trying to support. There are really good days where memories are made and routines become comfortable. We learnt to laugh about things, as well as cry, celebrate as well as mourn. There was one experience where I was relaxing at her house. My period unexpectedly started, and I didn’t have anything with me. I asked for a tampon. Something that was so normalised for me, I was mortified when I realised what I had asked. I didn’t want to come across as insensitive and I apologised profusely. She laughed about it, we laughed about it. Slipping up with knowledge is okay, it was normalised. But I was still nervous and apologised later, it’s all a learning curve.
Now MRKH, although being tough and nerve-wracking, wasn’t something that held us back or created a barrier within a friendship. The community is growing and there are always reminders that you are not alone. I don’t need to understand completely, there are others that do understand. But it is important that there is also a support system through people that do not relate. You don’t want to make the diagnosis your life, it becomes a part of you, rather than you becoming a part of it and the external support becomes a big part of that. I am happy to learn, distract, ground and be there. And more than that, I want to be.
I am excited and extremely proud of Vics, TK and the charity they are building. I’ve watched the struggle of tests, appointments, good days and bad. I wanted to join Stars to be able to learn more and support, not just my close friend, but many others. This is my way of being able to help emotionally, through support and distractions and now physically through the charity.