It’s not that I’m not thankful. I am thankful for so many things. I could list the many things I’m grateful for, but there’s one thing missing from that list: I am thankful for my happy, thriving, beautiful living daughter. I don’t get to put that one on my list, and honestly, it’s still hard to see past that.

I don’t mean to seem bitter or unappreciative, but I simply can’t help but feel surly and grouchy now that the holidays have arrived. I have been dreading this time of year, and honestly can’t wait for it to be over with. The biggest perk for me is the time off work. There won’t be any happy, holly jolly merriment for me. I realize it’s been a long while since Lucy died, and that the vast majority might wonder why I can’t just set my grief aside and be present in all things wonderful, but I just can’t.

I made a big mistake around this time last year. I dared to imagine things would be different this year for the holiday season. I thought for sure that by now we’d be pregnant again, looking toward the future with hope and optimism. I was wrong. I don’t say things like that anymore, either aloud or to myself. Things are exactly the same, and the disappointment is tangible. The longing, sadness, and depression is still as real now as it was a year ago. I miss Lucy as much now as I ever have. It’s too painful to even try imagining what this day should be like with her here; but, I suppose it’s no different than any other day. And I’ve survived all of those days, just as I will today.

I miss my Lucy. And, even though I’m sad, I’ll always be thankful that she is ours and we are hers.