A/N: Okay, this chapter gets really dark. I can't say more without giving it away but I am dead serious when I say this gets very, very dark.

ONCE AGAIN MY NOTE COULD BE VERY IMPORTANT TO YOU IT PLEASE READ

3 September 1618

One whole year old! I can't believe it. My baby boy is a year old!

But more than that. Today he took three steps on his own! He pulled himself up with the couch and toddled three steps before he sat down on the ground again, laughing. His cute hazel eyes were so bright and excited, so lively and sweet. He's clearly attached to Sigmun like he is to me, which is good because he won't get upset about Sigmun staying home with him.

It's also nice that I can run errands and go to work like normal. I talked with Neolla and Mariek today, not about much but we shared how we've been and I invited them over to meet my baby. They'll be over in a week.

10 September 1618

Neolla and Mariek were over for tea today. Sigmun and them and I sat around the table while Luke sat in his highchair, happily occupied with those colorful wood blocks Simonn has from when he was little.

We all got caught up and Neolla's law practice has been going well and Mariek's aunt is trying very, very hard to get her married (as if. I don't think Mariek would ever get married to anyone besides Neolla). It's nice having my friends around to talk to again.

18 September 1618

I came home today and Sigmun was sitting in the library playing with Luke and the house smelled like good stew and bread and everything was warm and lit yellow with sunset and the trees were painted like fire. My baby was laughing and babbling and my love was smiling and everything was just so good. I mean, it's been good for a while now. I'm just happy.

23 September 1618

My love and I talked today about having another baby today.

"Do you want another baby?" I asked.

"Where did that come from?"

"We've been…" I felt blushy, which is ridiculous because I mean we sleep together! What's to feel embarrassed about? "Sleeping together again, so it's bound to happen again."

"Right. Well, I'd like to have another baby. If you do."

"I do."

"Then that's that." He kissed me and that was indeed that.

28 September 1618

Today was a good day at work. More days are, now that Pamela's gone and apparently David got put very firmly in his place by Susan. I wish I'd been there. I'd've loved to see Susan really going off at someone.

Susan and Catherine and I talked about things, just about life and all that. Susan seems happier than she did before. I asked her and she said she just felt better. Catherine's still looking for a husband because she figures since she has a job she can find someone who she's sure about. I'm glad I never really had to get married. I like being married but I also like having the choice.

3 October 1618

Thirteen months old. He's getting so big! And he can really toddle now; he likes to walk towards his toys. I came home today and Sigmun was crouched across the room, saying, "Come here, sweetie! Come here!" Luke was toddling over to him, slowly but surely. And when he made it, Sigmun scooped him up and swung him around like he weighed nothing.

"Having fun?"

"Very much so. He's getting good." Luke giggled and snuggled up to Sigmun like he does. "Here, can you take him? I'm gonna make dinner."

"Of course." I took our baby in my arms and he snuggled up to me, too, sweet and happy like he is. I really do think he loves me, and I know for sure I love him. I love him.

7 October 1618

He had another cough today. It always terrifies me when that happens. But Dolora assures me he's just coughing, because everyone coughs sometimes. She promised as soon as she thought it was something bad she'd have treatments ready. Of course she will.

Andrew was over today. He cooed over Luke like we all do and my baby really took a liking to him. I'm glad; Andrew loves children.

Other than that it's been fine. Simonn really hates his job, Dolora's getting plenty of work, I'm doing fine. I think it's easier on Sigmun that he's not looking for a job, too. I think it's easier on him that he's not always getting looked down on for his birth.

15 October 1618

It's starting to get cold out so we stoke the fire a little higher to keep the library warm. I wrap Luke up in a warm blanket every night so he'll be warm and safe at night. Since his crib is in our room we'll hear as soon as something's wrong, and it's such a comfort when I sleep, knowing I'll know if my baby isn't safe.

21 October 1618

The cough hasn't gone away and he's been fussy like he's not feeling well. Dolora gave him something for a cough and said it's a cold, everyone gets colds sometimes. I'm trying not to worry. I mean, he's my baby, how can I not worry? But he's been coughing and breathing much too fast. I worry.

26 October 1618

I'm really scared. He has a fever and he's been shaking like he's cold, and he's not as fussy as before, but only because he seems so tired. He doesn't walk much anymore; he just sits in one of our laps and plays with his toys quite listlessly. I'm very worried. Dolora's been treating him, but I've known her most of my life and I can see that little crease on her forehead that means she doesn't know for sure if she can fix it.

28 October 1618

He got a little better today. His breath was easier and he walked and played more, and his fever lightened up. I think he's getting better. I think he'll be alright. Dolora's face lost that little crease and everything seemed better. I felt better.

31 October 1618

We all went into the village for All Hallows' this year. It was wonderful. He's still a little sick, of course, but he laughed at the dancers and Dolora held him for a little while Sigmun and I danced. I danced with Simonn, too, and of course Simonn and Hannah danced. I sat with the other women who have babies for a time during the dances without partners and watched my love dance while I clapped in time to the music. My baby tried to clap, too, and it was just the cutest thing ever. It was a nice All Hallows' and I hope I can take my baby to every All Hallows' after this one.

1 November 1618

We took him into the village for All Saints' Day this year, too. There was dancing again and I danced with Sigmun until my feet were sore and my face was red and my heart was pounding. There's something strangely comforting about dancing in the midst of the rest of the people of our village, surrounded by people and unsure were I am but always touching my husband, if just barely.

I sat with Luke while they did more of the single dances and he was clapping again, and then us mothers all set our children down to play together. (Well, they sort of do. They're too young to really play together.) I let him have a little sugar, too, and his face just lit up when he tasted it and he laughed and smiled like he'd never be sad again.

Patrik was there and though he's huge and strong, he was gentle when he asked to hold Luke and Luke seemed to like him well enough. Patrik sat with me for a while and though he didn't talk much, I really do think he feels bad about how he treated us when we were younger. As long as he's kinder like this I'll forgive him.

Dinner was lovely, and Hannah was over and so were Neolla and Mariek and since they chipped in we could afford a better dinner than we expected. We got enough soup into Luke for him to stop fussing and it was so warm and I'm glad my baby's getting better.

3 November 1618

He got worse again and I'm worried it was the village. He was tired and listless again today, and he was fussy and shivery. He had a fever again and he was coughing horribly and his breath was much too fast and it was terrifying. Dolora had that crease on her forehead again and I'm scared. I really am.

But Simonn drew his picture today anyways, because he said he'd like to get it done now. It's a nice picture, like the one from last year, and I like it. I hope he's in many picture in years to come.

5 November 1618

He was even worse today, coughing and choking and breathing hard with his belly. Dolora said it might be winter fever. It's not even winter! I'm so scared. Dolora's been treating him but we have to stay up with him all the time. Sigmun and I take turns. Simonn's been working ridiculously late hours and when I asked why he said he didn't want to accidentally make things worse. I think it scares him. I know it scares me.

6 November 1618

His lips were blue and he was coughing so hard and I'm so scared. He's got such a fever and Dolora's trying but he's fussy and tired and always coughing, he doesn't stop. He won't walk anymore, doesn't even babble. I'm so scared. When I hold him I can feel him shaking. I don't pray much but I find myself praying so hard for him. All I want is for him to live. I've wanted so many things in my life but nothing, nothing as much as this.

7 November 1618

It's not possible. I'm dreaming, right? I'll wake up and he'll still be there. My little Luke. How is it possible that this child I once prayed I could have has been snatched from me? He took his last breath in my arms. His tiny little body went cold while I was cradling him so close to me, his lips blue and cold. My baby boy just died and it's not fair! It's not fair that I loved him so, so much and now he's been taken from me like a toddler snatch toys from another. It's not fair that my little love will never has his chance to grow up and be the amazing person he could have been. None of this is fair!

I've cried so much I can barely speak and my throat burns like fire. Dolora and Simonn have tried to comfort me, but nothing can make a dent in the sadness inside me. I don't want to be true; it can't be true. It just can't be real. I have nightmares! Maybe this is just one awful nightmare. One long, long nightmare.

I know in my heart of hearts that this can't be true, as I cannot remember a single time I've written in my journal in a dream, but I need to believe that it's not real. I have no choice.

8 November 1618

What's the point? I had my beautiful baby boy and now he's gone and I just don't see the point. I woke up and his cradle was empty and cold. The entire world feels heavy and dark and devoid of hope. My heart feels empty and cold and wrong, as if it shouldn't be there at all. I didn't eat much today and I wasn't hungry. Work was drudgery and I felt like I wasn't there. I feel like I'm not inside my own body; I can barely feel my fingers and toes. I don't know why I bother writing. I can't hear my pen scratching on the page the way I used to and food tastes like paste. Sometimes, I swear I hear Luke babbling his baby talk or crying or laughing or just being there. Every time, I turn around and he's gone.

We had the funeral today. He was buried. We dug a hole six feet deep and put his tiny little coffin into the ground. I can't get the image out of my head. I can't.

Dolora keeps trying to talk to me, but I can't. I can't talk to anyone. It hurts too much.

9 November 1618

I wish I didn't have to go to work. Even those shining needles remind me of Luke's shiny hazel eyes. I almost started crying today and I felt Catherine poke me with the dull end of her needle to help me stay together.

Catherine asked me what was wrong after work and I just ran away. I've barely even spoken to Sigmun since. I don't want to talk. I cry every night now and I haven't been sleeping, because the nightmares have returned with vengeance. Dolora makes me eat, but I don't want to. I just can't seem to feel anymore.

Sometimes I wish I were dead, too. Sometimes I think if I were dead, I wouldn't have to feel this pain. I can't think of anything besides him. At work, my fingers ache from how often I prick them with the needle and I don't care because at least it's something I can feel.

10 November 1618

I feel so alone. I can see my family is sad, too, but I feel so lonely. Simonn paces and looks anxious, Dolora frets more and cries when it's late, Sigmun tries to find a new job, and I sob by myself when no one is home because I can't talk. My baby is dead and I can't stop thinking about him, about that curl that never quite laid flat, about those adorable little cooing sounds he made and the sweet sound of his babbling and those precious toddling steps, about his huge personality in that tiny little body. Catherine keeps asking me what's wrong and maybe one of these days I'll tell her. Neolla and Mariek brought over food and though I'm grateful, it all tastes like paste to me.

Sigmun asked me if I was okay and I told him I was fine. I know he didn't believe me because he hugged me so tightly that I thought I'd melt. I started sobbing again and he was crying, too, and I don't know how I'm ever going to feel anything again if I couldn't feel his arms around me and his tears on my shoulder.

11 November 1618

I just blurted the whole thing to Catherine today and she actually offered to do my job for a few days until I felt a bit better. I so wanted to take her up on the offer, but I also don't want to leave her with all my work for days. She also suggested I talk to Agnes. I don't think I have the courage.

I found some of his old clothes mixed in with mine today and I just can't stop thinking about him. He can't be dead, but he is…it's just too much to take in. He can't be dead. It's a long nightmare. It has to be.

12 November 1618

I broke down in tears at work today and I couldn't do anything about it. Agnes asked what the hell was wrong with me and I told her my baby died and she sent me home. I don't know if she's had children die, but I think she must know how it feels, because she told me not to come back for two weeks. It's the best gift she could offer.

I spent the day curled up on my bed with that stuffed bear he loved that's as big as he was. My pillow is damp with tears and still, all I can feel is numb.

13 November 1618

I've barely spoken a word since and I can tell I'm worrying Sigmun and my friends, but speech is just so hard. I can barely think straight. Every moment just gets longer and I know talking is supposed to help, but I don't want to make it worse for my husband and my friends. I'm sure they'd tell me I'm being ridiculous, but I just can't speak.

I barely got out of bed today. I wish Sigmun would stop all his searching, because I can see it's wearing him down, but he won't, no matter how ragged he runs himself.

14 November 1618

I managed to speak today. It was after dinner and I was sitting on the bed, motionless except for sobs, and I felt Sigmun put an arm around my shoulders and hug me close to him. I curled up like a child and I couldn't stop the silent tears and of course he was crying, too. So I hugged him and rested my head on his chest and we just held each other for such a long time and all I could think of was how much I missed my little Luke.

"I miss him," I said, and my voice was rough and crackly from lack of use and tears.

"I do, too."

"Why? Why him? Why us? Why any of this?"

"I don't know. I've been asking myself the same thing."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Just promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Never cry yourself to sleep again, okay? Wake me up or something."

"You've got things to do."

"I don't care. I'm not sleeping anyways."

"Then you tell me when you can't sleep!"

"Fine."

"Do…Do you remember when he was ten months old and he slept through the night and you woke me up because you thought something was wrong?"

"And then he did wake up and we both just sighed and you made me help him sleep again?"

"It was your turn."

He smiled and I giggled rather weakly, even though I was still crying.

"Promise me something?" I asked.

"What?"

"Every night, before we go to bed, let's talk. Okay?"

"Of course, but why?"

"We can't just not talk about this and hope it'll go away."

"Alright."

I hope we can talk tonight and maybe ease a little of this huge grief.

15 November 1618

I fell asleep in his arms for the first time since that awful day and his heartbeat helped me sleep, because I haven't been sleeping much. I can't sleep, not with the nightmares. They've returned with vengeance, making up for all those times I slept through the night. I dream about it again and again, that moment he…he died, his lips blue and his face tired and his body cold. I live it again and again, his last labored breath. I can't stop. I can't.

16 November 1618

I just cried today all day and I know it's bad for me but all I wanted was to cry and never stop. It just hurts too much. Everything does.

17 November 1618

It's so quiet in at home. Simonn's always at work and Dolora's trying to take care of all of us but I can see her hands shaking and Sigmun's spending all his time trying to find a job but I found fragments of a vase he used to keep on our desk wrapped up in cloth and I know he didn't knock it of the desk on accident like he'll pretend later. I might throw things if I wasn't so afraid of making it worse for my family.

No one's had to cook more stew since he died because none of us are eating.

18 November 1618

We've been talking, at least a little, but tonight we just cried. I couldn't stop crying and Sigmun was crying too, and I hate that this is all so hard. I hate that all of this happened. What was the point of having and loving my baby so much and then watching him die? What was the point?

Simonn would say there is no point and much as he's probably right I don't want to believe it.

19 November 1618

I felt so guilty today. I mean, I was taking care of him, it must be something I did. We shouldn't have taken him to the village, especially not in the fall during a festival, shouldn't have had friends over, shouldn't have weaned him early, shouldn't have…I don't know. But it must be something we did, something I did. Something.

20 November 1618

I know we should move his crib and all his things out of our room, but the idea of moving his things makes it seem too real. I don't even know where we'd put them. I suppose in the little closet downstairs where Dolora keeps odds and ends like that. I just don't want to get rid of all his clothes and toys and all the things he loved. I can't bear to.

Simonn's still working his long hours, even though I tried to talk him out of it, but Dolora's not shaking so much anymore. She's not eating much, either, but she's not shaking so much anymore. And I think Sigmun might've burned off some his anger because today he stayed home with me and we talked things over. I suppose it helped.

I still couldn't feel his arms around me and if I can't feel that I'm scared I'll never feel anything else.

21 November 1618

I know I have to go back to work soon and I guess I'm just hoping I can throw myself into it the way Simonn does and maybe just stop thinking for a little while. I'm scared to forget my baby. I know that's preposterous considering how much I loved him but I'm so scared that I'll forget him. I find myself reliving the past fourteen months over and over and over again, like they'll disappear if I stop thinking about them.

Dolora told me that it's normal to not feel much of anything but I still worry it will never go away.

22 November 1618

I found myself praying once more yesterday, pleading with God to fix things. I don't know what I want from God, but I suppose it's…the strength to keep moving, perhaps? I know my baby can't come back, much as it hurts me to think. But I can't stand how much it hurts. I don't even know if I can call it hurting when it feels so numb, but that's how I feel.

23 November 1618

Sigmun and I talked for hours today about everything, about Luke and about loss and about how much we loved him and how much we miss him. Sigmun told me he feels guilty because he was taking care of Luke, he should've done something. And I told him I feel guilty about it because I was holding him in the village and I should've known not to take him there. And I guess it helped, because if nothing else it's become clear to me that this was not my fault.

24 November 1618

Simonn stopped his insane hours because his boss made him and so he was home today and he told me about losing his siblings and his parents and he told me the best thing to do is to keep breathing, and to do what feels right.

And I'm such a mess that I started crying again and Simonn hugged me and he gave me a picture of Luke and said it might help, said that it helps to remember. He knows grief, and the last thing he told me was that it would never feel the same but in the end there is always hope. Always hope.

25 November 1618

Is there always hope? I'm not sure these days.

26 November 1618

I had to go back to work today. I felt together enough to sew my buttonholes like normal but Catherine could tell I still don't feel good. I hardly feel human. I hardly feel anything at all. I just want to feel okay again. I want to feel like I did before all this happened. I want to feel sane again.

27 November 1618

Since Sigmun's been staying home alone he's been making dinner and all that but today he just sat in a chair all day and when I came home he was still holding a knife.

"Sigmun!"

"Huh?"

I grabbed the knife away from him and held it as far as I could. "You can't!"

"Can't what? Can't chop things? I promise I'm not that tired."

"You can't-can't-you can't die too!"

"I…I wasn't going to! I promise! I just got lost in thought and I forgot! I wasn't going to…oh, please, I'm sorry…" I was crying and I dropped the knife and I hugged him and I'm sure I sounded hysterical and ridiculous, but I was so scared to lose him, too.

"No, no, it's alright. I'm sorry. I just panicked."

"Well, I wasn't going to. I promise."

I nodded and it was a strange weight off my shoulders, like there was one more thing that was going to be okay someday.

28 November 1618

I talked to Simonn again today and I asked him if he ever felt normal again, if he ever felt the same. And he said no.

"I mean…I never felt the same after any of them. After my mother and father. But…a new normal, I suppose. Like…you live with the loss, and then it stops hurting and you start feeling a different kind of normal."

"What?"

"Do you think I could ever forget them? Any of them? I couldn't…not ever. But it's been two years. Thinking about them…it doesn't hurt so much anymore."

"Really?"

He nodded. "Simonn, I really do love you."

"I love you too."

Maybe I never will feel normal again. But maybe…maybe someday it won't make me feel like I'm dying.

29 November 1618

My husband and I went to our baby's grave today. We put wildflowers on it and talked to him a little and I'd like to think that if there is an afterlife he could see us, still caring and still loving him.

30 November 1618

At work Catherine told me that she'd be stopping by with some stew later if that was alright, and I told her of course. It's kind of her to make us dinner right now. I could use something like that. I don't even know how I manage to get out of bed most mornings. I don't even feel it when I prick my fingers on my needles. I don't know how I'll survive. I just know that I will, because there are many things in this world I would do but I will never be the one to end my life.

A/N: I would like to formally apologize for the title of this chapter.