Author: stephaniemoorewrites

Painful Todays

stephaniemoorewrites

The past month has been painful.

There have been triggers that I can point to that take up mental and emotional space. Which is already limited for me.

But I think a big part of it is: a settling in and a question.

In my mind this is what I’ve allowed myself to think:

Rory has moved on.

My baby girl passed away.

But I’ve expanded my verbiage to include:

My daughter is dead.

Those all mean the same thing. Different words. But words are important to me and I haven’t allowed myself to use that word much.

Died.

Dead.

They’re final.

My daughter will never walk through my door again.

Done. That’s it.

It’s not a new thought! I’ve been living with it for one year, seven months, and nine days.

What I’ve been getting stuck on is this.

How do I live the rest of my life with my daughter being dead?

It feels endless. The pain. The waiting. The getting by. It’s endless.

How do I live a whole life with my boys when I’m broken with pieces missing?

People do it.

Bereaved moms have reached out to me. They’ve survived decades now without one of their children.

I just struggle to understand how I’m going to do it. My ultimate hope of being with her again is death.

That’s what I’m straddling. My life here with the boys is important. I want to be here! But the life I hope to find in Heaven with Rory is equally important. I want to be there!

I have one foot planted firmly here on earth, loving my family. And one foot ready to jump to the other side.

It’s overwhelming.

I’ve been trying to take a step back. To focus on today.

Love today.

Care today.

Hug today.

Give cuddles today.

Spend time today.

Serve today.

I can make it through today.

Then tomorrow I’ll start again.

I’ll put that on repeat.

Though, I’m broken and not the mom or wife or woman I once was, I love my boys and husband with all I have left.

I can’t foresee the struggle between the two worlds ever changing.

But I’m working to bring a little Heaven to earth.

To include Rory in my work from day to day. To serve and love with her and for her.

Jesus Christ is my Hope.

He lives.

She lives.

With that hope, I’ll make today count.

And tomorrow.

And every day I’m gifted after that.

She’ll Never be a Teen

stephaniemoorewrites

I love watching my boys grow.

Being a teenager isn’t easy.

They’re trying to figure out who they are.

Who they want to be.

They’re forming their ideologies and questioning what they’ve been told.

They’re learning about friendships.

They’re having their first real crushes.

It’s an honor to stand beside my boys as they find themselves.

But as the boys outgrow me, the reality is hitting me.

Rory will forever be eight in my mind.

She won’t grow past that.

I can speculate.

I can wish.

But it doesn’t change the reality.

I won’t see Rory grow into a teenager.

No girl drama.

No late night talks.

No rom coms.

No talking about her first love and her first broken heart.

No getting ready for her first date.

No teenage fun.

Teenage years can be so hard to navigate.

But it would have been privilege to walk beside Rory.

The Girl that Loved Dogs

stephaniemoorewrites

For Rory’s birthday service project last February, we took needed items to the Humane Society.

We brought in a couple boxes.

The manager of contributions, Lisa, gave us a wagon.

We rolled in a huge stack.

Then had to go back for more. And more.

Lisa was so appreciative.

She hugged us.

Cried with us.

Celebrated our girl with us.

Right before we left she said she wanted to add Rory’s name to their memorial garden.

Lance and I came up with the wording.

Her brick was placed yesterday.

To the girl that loved dogs.

That loves dogs.

Thank you for continuing to help us remember and celebrate her!

We miss her.

Mental Side Effects: The Impossible is Always Possible

stephaniemoorewrites

Rory’s death is statistically not great.

Her age.

How she died.

All of it.

It makes everyday feel like anything can happen.

Since her death, I panic a lot. Especially about my family.

When the boys sleep in longer than they usually do, I creep toward their door.

With every step I’m praying.

Please let him be alive.

Please let him be alive.

Please let him be alive.

I can’t breathe again until I see their chests going up and down.

Today, Chiler went outside and was lying on the trampoline.

In my head I kept trying to convince myself.

He’s fine.

He’s just enjoying the outside.

I couldn’t stand it.

I had to go outside and make sure he was okay.

Praying the whole way.

Time Will Tell

stephaniemoorewrites

“All will be well.

You can ask me how,

But only time will tell.”

–Gabe Dixon

A couple of months after Rory passed, I cried to Lance that we needed to have another baby.

Not that any child could replace Rory. She’s irreplaceable. One of a kind.

But I couldn’t see happiness in the future.

I wasn’t ready to stop being a mom to a young child. I wasn’t ready to not have a baby anymore.

My baby is gone. She’s gone.

And babies are hope. I mean, they’re a lot of work! But they encompass love, innocence, joy, and progression. Hope.

I’m not announcing anything here. There’s no baby in my belly.

As Lance and I talked about it, prayed about it, and talked to the boys, it felt okay.

It felt like having a baby is a righteous desire for us.

But it also felt like it wasn’t the only way we could go. There are other things that Lance and I could do in our future. That it wasn’t going to be as bleak as it felt.

I got the feeling that we’d be able to love and care for people. That my mothering wasn’t going to end as the boys left the house.

I have no idea what our future holds. It’s not something I allow myself to think about often. I still struggle to see joy in my future.

But somehow.

All will be well.

Only time will tell.