I surived the one year mark

I survived the coming and going of Logan's angelversary on the 24th, though I guess survive is a relative term these days. The 23rd seemed to affect my dh a lot too since that is the day that we found out Logan had died (at which point they induced labor and I gave "birth" the following morning). Until he mentioned that fact, I'd never given that date much thought. My big days were the 24th and the 21st. The evening of the 21st was the day the uber-doc thought Logan probably died (based on the condition of the placenta and Logan). We didn't do anything special to commemorate the day. Seems terrible in theory, but neither of us felt like it was a day to commemorate. Logan was not supposed to have been born until May, so it wouldn't have even been his first birthday. He didn't die during an early birth, he was forced out after he died. The day was just an ugly day that shouldn't have happened. So, we did what was best for us. We woke up (at 3:45am thank to my dd who decided it was morning) to a warm (for a January in Michigan), rainy, gloomy day. It fit perfectly and was in great contrast to the stark bright and bitterly cold day of last year. We ate breakfast at the IHOP and spent the day lounging around the house, relaxing and watching TV. Thoughts of Logan and the mention of his name laced its way through just about every sentence that took place over those few days. And when they didn't his shadow still remained in a more distinct fashion than it has as of late. The only thing that might have made it obvious that day that something wasn't quite right was the fact that we were both very irritated and moody, snapping at everything and everyone. There was an aura of anger that lingered, until my daughters birthday (yesterday) gave us pause for happiness. Such an odd feeling to be so horribly sad and angry and bitter and to also feel such an enormous sense of joy and wonderment and to feel truly blessed at the same time. Such contradiction that eases through our lives like it belongs there. I guess it does now. I managed to keep myself together (I think we both did) until late the evening of the 24th. The only thing I really wanted to do for Logan that day was to write him a letter in his journal. I do that very rarely. It was too much. Too much honesty bubbling to the surface. On a routine basis I think I manage pretty well at keeping my honesty, and the raw emotions that must still linger, in check and locked away. But man, let me start writing and everything pours out. I couldn't finish the letter. I didn't want to talk to him anymore, it just hurt too much and talking to him like he was still here was too much honesty all at once. David came down stairs where I was hiding in my Scrapbook Room writing just moments after I finally broke down. We stood in the doorway and shared our common sorrow for several minutes, then shook it off and tried to go to bed.

What else is there to do but to shake it off and keep moving?