Sometimes I think that I need to just keep lying to myself the same way I lie to everyone around me-I'm ok, this isn't a big deal, I can get through the 12th anniversary without falling apart. I don't really have the luxury of falling apart this year, there's so much going on with the rest of my family/friends that I'm likely not going to see anything even remotely "private" timewise this Sunday. It's not ilke this is something I can mourn and deal with in the company of my family or most of my friends; the only one who lives near me and sees me in person daily who even knows the truth is my fiancee, and she has her own loss to deal with. So...I'm in a position where I almost have to force myself to believe the lie. Believe that I'm alright, that it doesn't affect me, that the past is the past and that I've moved on. It sounds good, in theory.

...the problem is, every year that passes seems to make the pain worse. It just drives home the fact that I should have a child growing up before my eyes, watching her get ready to, in this case, head off to high school next month (or at the very least, be ready to graduate middle school...I've lost track of what age brigs what grade in school anymore.) It makes me more and more aware of the fact that I am now in my thirties and still haven't started a family. I'm not married, my fiancee doesn't have a job right now, there's no way we could afford to raise a child. And then, of course, there's that pesky "Where do I get sperm from in a lesbian relationship?" question that I just...don't have an answer for.

But all of that aside...I miss her. I miss my baby. I know that I never really had her, that she was never alive in my arms for me to raise and love and have as my own, but...she spent five months growing in my womb, I did hold her in my arms, even if she had already passed on. I had imagined such a beautiful future for the two of us in those five months that I was pregnant (well, ok, the three months that I was actually aware of). Me and my daughter, my little Trinity Rose, against the world. I was going to protect her from all the things that hurt me when I was growing up. No one was going to lay a hand on my babygirl, not without risking their own life. But then...then I failed her. The very "man" who helped create her, the very "man" who caused me so much pain throughout the time we were together, took her away from me in the blink of an eye. Never in my life will I have a greater regret than what happened that night...

Anyway. I didn't mean to ramble on this long. There's still so much to say, but not today. I can't risk the tears today. I have to be strong, stuff my emotions down and concentrate on everyone else. Because that's what I do. Bury my own pain so I can shoulder everyone else's.

I need to keep this short and sweet, for now. I've finally decided that it would be a good idea to have a place for myself to keep all the writings about my daughter, Trinity Rose, together in one spot. I'm tired of having my thoughts about her scattered all over the place, so hard to remember where it all got posted when it's in this blog and that livejournal and this thing over here...now, she can finally have her own place, her own little corner where I can pay tribute to a life taken far, far too soon, before it could even truly begin.

I can't write much, not right now. Not while I'm at work. I can't afford to sit here and cry while I pour my heart out onto the screen. But soon...very soon...