I am not in bed bawling my eyes out as this year ends, and maybe I should be. I am really struggling with not feeling guilty over being somewhat functional right now. In a year that started out as the best of my life, it has ended as the worst, but yet, I am still breathing, trying to live life so my DH can heal, too. I know that if I were to give in to everything that is weighing on my tired shoulders, I would gain 50 pounds and never get out of bed again.
As I spend time with my niece, who is the exact age as Sophia should be, I wonder how I can even manage to get up each day. When I look at my daughter's urn, I see everything that should be happening, but get hit with what is actually going on. My memories of having a bump are failing. Instead, I am having major back problems made by stress and grief. And in spite of it all, I am still going. Am I cold? Am I unfeeling? No, I don't think so. I am just a woman who's grief is making her feel like an empty vessel. I feel my dreams of being a Mommy to a live child are slipping through my fingers and I am not quite sure how to process that. *sigh*