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It will be eleven months in a few days. Eleven months since my baby was breathing, cooing, nursing and living. I have been struggling the last few days thinking about this. It seems that since almost a year has gone by, people have forgotten her. No one ever mentions her anymore and even sometimes when I mention her, they want to change the subject. But then what are they supposed to ask about? How is Tess? How is she doing in her little grave? I just can't seem to reconcile the fact that there really isn't anything to say about her. She isn't growing or progressing in this life. She won't start crawling or walking. She won't say "mama" or "dada". I read and hear people talking about their sick kids. Sometimes you can't help, but complain about a sleepless night or a teething baby who won't stop fussing. I have even been told a couple of times how lucky I am to have so much free time during the day or how lucky I am to get to sleep in. I kind of feels like a slap in the face, because I would give anything to be sleep deprived again, with a fussy baby. That morning is always on my mind. I think about it at least fifty times a day. It was the scariest thing that I have ever experienced. I felt like a part of me was taken when the coroner took my girl away that day. Another part was left in the ground when she was buried. I still haven't gotten over the shock of it all and it has been almost a year? I still can't believe my baby is not here.