It’s been 21 weeks since the boys were born. 21 painful, confusing, stressful, stomach turning, sleepless, tearful weeks. At the same time it’s been amazing having Grady. Even though I have the girls, I never knew that the love I have for Grady existed. I wonder if that makes me a bad mother. I feel that way. I’m not the mother I was hoping to be. I’m lost. I have no patience. I’m angry. I’m weak and I’m tired. I’ve been told I’m so strong. Well, I have no choice. I am the way I am because I have to be. But I’m not “strong” all the time. There are times I can’t see my girls’ smiles through my tears. I cry while I cook. I cry while I drive. I cry changing Grady. I cry in the shower. I think of Cullen every day. Every hour. Every Friday I replay the day they were born. Over and over. I’m often asked if I’m “seeing someone” if I’m “getting help.” I laugh at it. The answer is yes. I am in therapy. Is it helping....yes. Am I on medication. Yes. I can NOT imagine dealing with everyday life without it. I wish I could get enough to make me numb. But I know it’s not possible. Grady makes me smile. I know he’s a miracle. If it weren’t for Cullen making me go into labor, and I KNOW his distress made me....we wouldn’t have Grady. He’s my sunshine. At times, he’s the reason I can get out of bed. I’m a twister of emotion. I hate it. Most of the time I can’t describe how I feel. One minute I’m going through my day, the next it hits me like a runaway train and I’m sobbing. My mind goes a mile a minute ALL the time. I still think ‘what if’ I will forever think WHAT IF. Grady likes to laugh at himself in front of the mirror. He should be looking at Cullen. I should have 2 beautiful faces to make me smile. But then more guilt. If I had both of them I would be that twin mom desperate for a break. I’d be the mom saying it was hard. That I got no sleep. I don’t think I’d appreciate what I had. You often don’t until you don’t have it. I’d be the mom I now despise. The one I’m SO jealous of. So envious of. This “special club” I’m now in....sucks. The only other people that truly know what I am going through are amazing. THEY are my therapy. THEY are my saving graces. THEY I have never met. THEY are just like me. THEY have what we call a survivor and and angel. Without these women....well...I don’t want to know. I log onto facebook to see how THEY are doing. See if THEY are having a bad day or a better day. THEY are all over the world, yet all in my heart. On my good days, I like to think of all of our angels together “somewhere.” I don’t like to say Heaven because I’ve had a hard time believing in God. More so now than ever really. I WANT to believe, but really struggle. I want to believe in Heaven. That Cullen is being taken care of. That I will see him again. But I just don’t know how. If there is a God, why does he let this happen? WHY does he take precious babies? I’ve heard that God doesn’t give you what you can’t handle. I can’t handle this. I’m on medication that isn’t ENOUGH to take the pain away. I can hardly live my life without feeling completely lost and weak. I feel the weeks are just passing me by and I’m missing out on so much. How can I be excited for life again. How do I get through this. I know I will be told to give it time....but I just can’t see that helping much. The pain, the hurt.....will ALWAYS hurt this much....that will never change. It’s just such a lonely road to travel. A road that everyone experiences slightly different. During my ‘good’ moments, I know it’ll get better....it HAS too! But, on my weak moments, which are more often then I’d like to admit.....I feel like it’ll never be ok. That I will be “fake Allison” forever. That I will never really know myself. It’s a horrible feeling not knowing yourself.