Today is 5 months since Brie died. I just realized that Easter fell on the 5 month anniversary of the only full day that she lived. How lovely, really. Because I know she's not really gone. She's just not here. With me. I think sometimes she is with me though - just not in the flesh. If she wasn't, how else could I go through life, even through the motions? Like today. I was mildly chastised by my wonderful husband for being in the rut I'm in. I haven't felt the need to really go do anything beyond the utterly necessary. And I know it's not good for me. But I needed to have it pointed out, because honestly, I don't really care. But I do care about making my husband upset. I know he doesn't like to see me like this. Depressed and uncaring. It's not good. I should probably be on an antidepressant. But I don't want to be, because if I am, at the end of this pregnancy, if it doesn't turn out well, I won't be able to donate milk. And I so badly want to do that. If I can't feed my own baby, how beautiful to be able to feed other babies, maybe other preemies, other sick babies, in his or her honor. So it's up to me to snap out of it by myself. And sometimes I do. For an hour, or a day, or sometimes a week. So today I'm doing some cleaning, which always makes me feel better about life. It helps to have a clean apartment.