55 weeks and 2 days old

In 1 week Grady will be 13 months old. It's been 55 weeks and 1 day since I held Cullen in my arms.  In one week and 2 days it will have been one year from my original due date, July 26.  The boys were to be born by c-section on July 13 2011....if they had, they would have both been gone.

Thoughts all run in my head. My 1 miracle lays downstairs peacefully in his crib. There is no doubt in my mind that he is in fact a miracle.  I do not take him for granted nor do I try to compare him to what is missing. They, MY TWINS, are in fact 2 separate people, loves...a forever broken lost pair.

I live. Barely. My life now I will say, is even more difficult, more painful, more lonely than 1 year ago. The fog that loomed over me, has lifted. I see now, what I did not want to see before. Reality. The pain that I thought I felt, is so much more now. Because of my inability to mourn I have isolated myself.

There has been no growth for me this past year. Grady has grown, physically and mentally...I have regressed. I know less now than before. I hurt more now. They say the 'rawness' of it lessens. It's now a scar. A painful scar. My heart, broken. My mind gone.

Life is going on around me. Jimmy, picking up all the pieces I am unable to keep glued together.  I am lost. I am stuck. My girls, my poor girls have lost their mother. I am inpatient. I am harsh. I am not loving enough. I am sorry.  I try to be the mommy they used to have. But the SCAR, the scar prevents me from doing and being so much more.  I'm physically here, but it's not enough.

Depression is a very interesting thing. Those who think you can just 'snap out of it' or 'get over it' have never traveled to the deep dark depths of it. Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I run. I run and try to reach it. Only, it just gets further and further away. It's a joke. A mean powerful prank that is being pulled on me. To feel paranoid because as I try to run for the light I feel others laughing, talking about me. Paranoia haunts me. To be this low. To feel this lost and crazy. Not knowing if I even tell the truth to myself. It's scary.  To cry uncontrollably then to be able to stop, wipe my eyes and go on.....Who am I kidding? Myself. To feel so dark in this place that to me, must be hell. It's physically, mentally and emotionally painful. Thoughts race. Pictures are burned into my mind. Wanting to forget. But at the same time I can't. Because I can't forget anything about him. There is SO LITTLE to remember. I have no happy memories. He and I never laughed together. We didn't play. We didn't dance. I just wish I could have seen him MOVE. I have no happy memories to hold onto. What I have, what I hear at night as I try to fall asleep....are his little painful breaths he last took while blood came out of his mouth. To feel like I will never be okay is an understatement.