Daniella's journal entry:

I never believed I was going to have a baby until I heard her cry. I know that so many people tried to convince me otherwise, but I never believed it. That day in the port-a-potty, while the bake-off was happening, I was convinced I was having my last miscarriage.

But then the bleeding stopped. It was just spotting. But when the spotting stopped, I didn't believe I was having a baby. Even when the doctors said everything was normal. Even when I could feel the baby kicking and rolling. Even when we bought a crib and buying baby clothes. Even when I heard the doctor tell me to push.

Until she cried. And I thought, that sounds like a real baby.

And now she's here. And she's perfect. Little Isabella Rose.

When I told Rose I was naming my daughter after her, she cried. Funny. I thought I was supposed to be the emotional one.

Through all those years I hardly ever saw Will cry. Now he can't stop crying. It seems like he had gigantic drums of tears stockpiled that he can finally release. I look over at him holder her asleep in his arms, and he has tears running silently down his face. We'll be bathing her together and I'll ask him to pass me a towel, and I'll discover he's crying again. I say, Will, please, Darling.

I don't cry as much. I'm concentrating too hard on doing it right. Calling up Rose to ask questions about breastfeeding. How do you know if she's getting enough? Worrying about her crying. What is it this time? Wind? Worrying about her weight. Her skin (it seems a bit dry).

But sometimes, in the middle of the night, when it's a good breast-feed and she's attached properly and suckling well, suddenly the reality of her, the actuality of her, the aliveness of her, the exquisiteness of her, hits me so hard. I don't know how to describe it.

We finally had a ceremony for all the lost babies. We took a bunch of roses to the beach one calm sunny winter's day, and we walked around the rocks and dropped one in the water for each little star. I'm glad we did that. I didn't even cry. I watched each little rose float off, and I felt something loosen, as if I'd been wearing something too tight around me for a very long time. As we walked back to the car, I found myself taking very deep breaths of air, and the air felt good.

•••

Because all of the memories of the children were so fresh in her mind, she realized how fast they had grown up. It made Rose's head spin. "It goes so fast," she told Daniella, but Daniella didn't really believe her. "Just wait until that beautiful little Isabella starts sleeping until noon and slumping into the house, flying into a gage when you suggest that maybe she might want to get dressed before it's bedtime again."

Sleep, Rose, Rose thought to herself. It's mother's day, and everyone would be here in a few hours. Just sleep. You'll regret it if you don't. Finally, Rose slept. She slept for a little while until she heard a voice in her ear.

"Rose," said the voice.

Rose opened her eyes to see her beautiful husband just inches away from her. She looked at him suspiciously. "What?" Jack said.

"Nothing."

"Happy Mother's Day," he said, kissing her.

"Thank you," Rose smiled.

"I'll bring us up some coffee in a minute." Jack closed his eyes and fell immediately back asleep.

She couldn't believe how some things in her life had changed after she lost her memory. Her attitude towards Maddie, her parenting, and somehow she and Jack were even closer than before.

Madeline had been asking Rose a lot of questions about her memory loss. "If you hadn't lost your memory, do you think we would still be fighting?" It made Rose sick to think about what had happened between her and Madeline before her accident.

Rose was also worried about the kids and what they went through when Rose forgot all about them. "Do you think we scarred you?" Rose asked anxiously. Even if it wasn't because of the memory loss, Jack and Rose had been so young when they had Josie. Rose was only twenty, and Jack was twenty two.

Jack woke up again and looked at Rose. "What's with the serious face?"

"Pancakes," said Rose. "I'm hoping they're seriously good pancakes."

"Well, they will be. Maddie is cooking."

She watched him pull back the curtains and examine the day outside. He lifted the window and breathed in luxuriously. Obviously the weather had met his approval. Jack had walked back to the bed and looked at Rose, his hand pressed to his chest.

"What?" Rose sat upright. "Chest pain? Are you feeling chest pain?" She was obsessed with chest pain.

Jack removed his hand and smiled. "Sorry, no. I was just thinking."

"God," Rose said irritably, lying back down. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

Jack knelt on the bed next to Rose. She swatted him away. "I haven't brushed my teeth."

"Oh, for heaven's sakes," said Jack. "I'm trying to say something profound."

"Well, I prefer you to be profound when I've brushed my teeth."

"I was just thinking," Jack said, "how grateful I am that he hit your head that day. Every day I say a little prayer thanking God for creating that supermarket." He was right. So many things in their lives had changed for the better since the accident. Josie and Nate were happy, Madeline wasn't having trouble at school anymore, and Jack and Rose were more in love than ever.

Rose smiled. "That's very profound. Very Romantic."

"Thank you. I do my best."

He lowered his head, and she went to give him a friendly, perfunctory kiss (she hadn't brushed her teeth; she was impatient for her coffee) but the kiss turned unexpectedly lovely and she felt that ticklish, teary feeling behind her eyes as a lifetime of kisses filled her head: from the front of Titanic to "you may now kiss the bride," to the shell-shocked kiss after Josie was born, to that aching, beautiful kiss after she had the accident.

The bedroom door burst open and Jack jumped back to his side of the bed, grinning. Josie was carrying a tray set for breakfast, Maddie was holding the coffee, Myles was holding a huge bunch of sunflowers, and Olivia was holding a present.

"Happy Mother's Day to you," they sang to the tune of "Happy Birthday."

"We're trying to redeem ourselves for last year," explained Madeline. Last year, Maddie bumped into Olivia with a pot of hot coffee, and Olivia had cracked her head open on the coffee table.

"I should think so," said Rose. She picked up the fork, took a mouthful of pancake, and closed her eyes.

"Mmmmmmm."

They would think that she was savoring the taste (blueberries, cinnamon, cream - excellent), but she was savoring the whole morning, trying to catch it, pin it down, keep it safe before all those precious moments became yet another memory.

The End

A/N: Thank you so much for reading the story! I appreciate each and every one of you readers. Remember to check out The Twenty Years, the sequel to this story.