Tag: loss of a child

Assurances

stephaniemoorewrites

I went to Time Out of Women, an inspirational women’s conference, a couple of weeks ago. Michelle Schmidt was there. She is the wife of one of the Piano Guys, who made national news when their daughter, Annie, went missing in an Oregon forest a couple of years ago.

As she was telling their story of looking for Annie, she said that she would get “assurances.” Not assurances that Annie would be found alive. But assurances that Annie was okay on the other side.

Assurances.

I’ve been searching for that word for a while now.

I receive assurances. Assurances of two things.

First, it tells me Rory is okay.

That she’s happy.

That she visits us.

She’s still here.

But also good there.

It also tells me that I’m not forgotten.

In my grief.

In my despair.

In my missing.

It reminds me that I have loving Heavenly Parents.

It reminds me that I have people on the other side looking out for me.

A lot of times my assurances happen in snapshots. Just a quick view of her from time to time.

It happens in unexpected, quiet moments. Most of the time when I’m not even actively thinking of her. They never last long.

It’s like someone took a Live Photo and sent it to me.

Heavenly Live Photos.

Best Live Photo ever.

I’m so grateful for those assurances.

Living Through Grief

stephaniemoorewrites

For the last little while I’ve been wanting to start a weekly series on how our family is living through grief.

We haven’t stopped living. There’s too much life left for Lance and I but especially our boys.

Starting at the beginning of January Dax started gymnastics competitions. Pre Rory’s death it was fun and all encompassing. I focused three to four months on his competitions, comparing scores and studying routines.

I have so much less energy for it.

And in all honesty, I feel bad about it.

But there’s really not much I can do. I show up. I support. I love. It’s what I can do.

To save some parental sanity, Dax is skipping Regionals this year. He’s a really good kid.

We’re so proud of how hard he works and all he has accomplished.

Here’s a little high bar from state last Saturday.

Rory, You Be You

stephaniemoorewrites

When I was pregnant with Rory, I kept saying that I would be fine if I ended up having four boys.

I knew what to do with boys.

I already had three that were good friends.

Adding one more, that’d be great.

But secretly, I wanted a baby girl.

I grew up in a house with the majority of girls. And loved it.

My parents were very encouraging. I always felt like I could be whoever I wanted to be.

I was so excited to spread that message to my daughter.

As Rory grew, Lance and I strived to encourage her, support her, and make sure she knew the sky was the limit.

She wanted to be a doctor? Okay, let’s do it!

You want to get a purple belt? (It was her favorite color.) You got this, girl!

Rory was brave.

She defended her brothers to the Moon and back.

Rory was kind.

She included everyone. Always.

Rory was smart.

She constantly amazed us on what she was picking up on.

Rory was humble.

She was the first to say sorry.

Rory was strong.

She fought through anxiety and fear and came up on the other side.

Rory was so excited to be a mom.

She loved babies. Loved, loved, loved babies and littler than her kids.

Today, I want to celebrate women! I want to celebrate Rory. The amazing woman she was, who she was becoming.

I’m grateful for what she taught me. And what she continues to teach me.

Love you, baby girl.

You took the step ahead of me this time.

Time is a Thief

stephaniemoorewrites

It’s often said that “time heals all wounds.”

I think most grieving people would say that heals is a strong word.

It’s an open wound. For the rest of my life.

But I’d also say that even time has mixed reviews.

As time passes it might be easier to get through the day to day. I’m sure it’s gotten easier. I can’t really recognize it as there are still a lot of sad days.

But time is also a big, fat thief!

Yes, big.

Yes, fat.

It eats memories.

It steals the way her hands once felt on mine.

It steals the exact way she laughed.

It steals away the exact way she used to skip across the field.

It eats remembrances.

As those memories begin to fade, the longer she’s away, the more I hate time.

I hate time because she’s not here.

I hate time because it just keeps going.

Why is it still going?

But I’m also grateful for it.

In the time since Rory passed my twins have grown taller than me.

They started high school.

They went to their first dance.

They take leadership roles in our family.

Since Rory’s passing, Dax turned 12 and was given the priesthood at our church.

Dax has competed in another season of gymnastics and learned more amazing skills.

He’s getting ready to graduate elementary school.

While time is taking memories of one, the other three keep growing, developing, and turning into amazing men.

I both love and hate time. All in one moment.

Talking About Rory

stephaniemoorewrites

One of the things people say to me is that they’re unsure if they should bring Rory up in a conversation.

I understand the hesitation. People don’t want to cause me more grief.

I love Rory.

I miss Rory.

For me, I want to talk about her. Share her love. Share her funny stories.

IF it comes up naturally, then please ask me, let me share a little something about her.

If you had a memory come to mind. If you dreamt about her. If you felt her to close. Please share that with me. It tells me that she’s remembered. It tells me that Rory is still around, loving those she loved in life.

Here’s the caveat. There’s a good chance I’m going to cry. Happy memories. Sad memories. Hard memories. Lovely memories.

Talking about her makes me happy but also makes me miss her.

So don’t be scared of my tears. Don’t think you caused me more grief.

The grief is always there.

But for a few minutes I got to think about, talk about, this amazing little girl.

That I miss.

That I love.