How are you doing?

First off, I apologize if I haven't replied to a message that you've sent me. I've been trying to reply to everything, but I know some things have fallen through the cracks along the way. I'm sorry. Please know that I appreciate your thoughtfulness very much. I don't know how I'd be doing without the constant flow of love and support that I've received from all of you.

How am I doing? If you ask, I usually reply with, "Okay." but I don't know if that really gives you any description, so I'll give it a shot here.

Considering the circumstances, I think I'm doing pretty decent. I'm not laying in bed, listening to sad music and crying--not that I think there's anything wrong with that. I get out of bed, go to work, usually manage to get some work done, and by the end of the day I'm pretty drained. I've spent lots of quality time with friends and family, asked for help when I needed it, and generally feel like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Sometimes I still feel a little out of it or distracted, but most of the time I feel like me. I'm able to laugh, chat with people about other things, and usually I can focus on a task.

But it's still hard. There's a lot of talk about the baby and what happened. Sometimes I feel guilty for dominating conversations and for bringing it up when I want to talk about it, like I'm being an attention whore. But I still feel like there are explanations to make to people and keeping them up to date on how I'm doing both physically and emotionally.

So while I think we're going through a normal grieving process and that's good news--it still pisses me the hell off that we're in this situation to begin with.

I've had more flashes of anger when I think about how excited we were for our big ultrasound and how we got the rug pulled out from underneath us. Even when I was cautious at the beginning of our pregnancy, I honestly never thought that anything would go wrong. This has shaken my faith to the core. I'm not a particularly religious person, so I don't mean "faith" in that way--I'm moreso referring to the immense amount of fear that I now have as I realize that anything can be taken away from me--from any of us.

Anything, at any time.