sometimes there is silence

Jan 30, 2022 by tracy

Our theme in church today was Trusting in the Lord’s Timing. One of the speakers said something along the lines of, “Sometimes when the answer is not yet or no, that answer comes with silence.”

Boy howdy, did that hit home. My hand reached out and gripped Richard’s and I shuddered a little as tears started to flow.

Because that is largely what we have experienced with Saylor and Stella. It’s been two years and the silence from the heavens has wracked my soul more than I can describe.

There have been moments of peace. There have been tender mercies with their mighty spirits.But mostly there has been silence.

And heartache.

And tears.

And longing.

I would just love to have a sit-down chat with God where He could explain the whole situation to me. I absolutely trust Him and His goodness and His love for me and for our babies.

But I don’t understand the ten years of promptings and the miracles and all of it since they aren’t here in our home. I’m sure there are answers, beautiful, wonderful answers that will satisfy my soul, but since I don’t have the answers, my mind tries to create some sense out of the whole thing and I’m sure my explanations are not the truth. So I need it straight from Him. What the cow did all of this mean and why did it unfold the way it did?

If you are aching with silence from the heavens, just know, you are not alone. And also know, that I know, He is good and kind and merciful and loving. And someday we will both understand.

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january 8

Jan 8, 2022 by tracy

January 8, 2020 is the day Richard was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

It’s been two years since that hard, heavy day and today he went fishing on the Snake with Fisher and caught six fish! What a way to celebrate! He said wading in the very shallow water felt okay to his brain and didn’t tire his brain out as much as it did this past summer. He continues to make progress and we are so grateful!

We were also able to spend some time in the temple thanking God for His power and grace and tender care. I was a bit frazzled when I got there because of some challenges with my trip tomorrow, but eventually I was able to calm down and feel the sweet spirit and breathe in God’s love for me.

January 8th has been a big day for our family several times.

January 8, 2013 was my first seizure – these seizures changed my life dramatically because I was no longer able to be alone or take care of my children by myself. I always needed someone to be with me, to drive me places, and to be ready to help me if I collapsed.

January 8, 2018 was the day I found out I would start receiving human stem cells and received a powerful, beautiful message from God about our babies. GLORY, GLORY, HALLELUJAH! These cells also changed my life dramatically. Within three weeks after receiving them, my nervous system was soooooo much calmer. And the seizures mostly stopped. From 2013-2017, I had thousands of episodes. Since I started human cells, I have had 22! Next week I get to receive more of these amazing treatments that do so much good for my body. Sweet tears of joy as I type these words because my entire being is so grateful for the blessing these cells have been for me and my family. Those that have given me this gift can never be thanked enough.

I never know how I’m going to feel on January 8. It is a hard day…and also a beautiful day. Tonight I’m releasing the hard and just soaking in the miracles.

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a little love note

Dec 13, 2021 by tracy

Big tears running down my cheeks.

Today I was in a very long line. The group behind me was a mama and her 18 month old. When I turned around I let out a little gasp. She reminded me so much of Stella, something about her spirit felt like Stella’s sweet, impish, brightly-shining spirit. This adorable baby girl with big eyes kept reaching for me, wanting to share her cookie. If I turned away, she called me back with the cutest little “hewow.” We played peek-a-boo and I talked to her about everything around us and she babbled back at me. The mama said, “She sure likes you, she can’t get enough of you.”

After we’d moved about 20 feet in line. I asked the mama what her baby’s name is. She said Saylor.

Then I gasped big and my eyes filled up with tears and I told her about our Saylor. She said “it’s not a common name,” and I said, “I know.”

The little Stella-feel-alike, called out bye-bye to me as I tried to find my car through my tears.

What are the chances?

Probably really, really small.

I’m counting it as a little love note from our babies.

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missing them always

May 13, 2021 by tracy

Sometimes my heart skips a beat and my breath catches and time freezes when I see our children’s names or see a baby that reminds me of them.

Sometimes I sob.

Sometimes I get quiet.

Most of the time the people around me have no idea I’m dying inside. Not because I’m hiding it, just because somehow I’m in this place of living and grieving at the same time.

Always I miss them. Always I yearn for them. Always they are in my heart.

Last week a cousin on Richard’s side named her baby Saylor…spelled my way instead of like the occupation of a sailor…and it shocked me to see that name on a baby announcement. I was so happy for them AND felt so grief-stricken at the same time that our Saylor isn’t here crawling all over the place and making mischief.

Yesterday I was driving down the street in Afton, Wyoming and saw a sign for a restaurant named Stella’s and time stood still as I gasped for breath. I had Mikelle’s precious children in my backseat and as I dropped them off a few minutes later, my heart broke again.

My friend has a dog named Stella. A precious two-year old named Stella in a neighboring town was just diagnosed with leukemia. A little girl who used to live in our ward is named Stella. It seems there are Stellas everywhere. And it rings loud in my soul over and over again that we don’t have our Stella in our arms.

I recognize that it would be incredibly challenging to have them here given the past year of our life and the reality of Richard’s abilities…and mine, but that doesn’t mean our hearts don’t ache with missing them.

I call Richard on the regular and just cry as he says all the right things. He sees a look in my eyes and he just knows and lets me melt into his arms and sob.

And then we pick up the pieces of our souls and keep on living…which sometimes feels impossible…but somehow day after day it keeps happening. I don’t know how and I can’t talk about it very well, because the pain is so deep, so pervasive that I can’t find words to describe it. But I feel a need to chronicle this journey in some way so there is a record of the heartache.

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