A/N: This chapter deals with the loss of a child.
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A thunderstorm has devastated my garden during the night. Worried, I inspect the young plants that could not withstand the heavy rain and wind. In the approaching summer and the following fall, we will have to tighten our belts even more than we already do. I work as much as I can, but I find it harder and harder to stay on my feet. Soon the child will also be screaming hungrily. How am I supposed to feed it when we already don't have enough for us? My body is weakened, I don't know if I will have enough milk. Father won't care if the child survives its first winter or not, but it is also mine and I feel it moving inside me.
I go to the chicken coop and then to the goats. With eggs and milk for breakfast I return to the house. There is nothing hostile in the eyes of these animals when they look at me. They know that I care for them. After finishing the meal, Father leaves to sell some rabbit furs to the tanner in the village. I set out to gather some eatable mushrooms in the forest. The bending strains me and the pain I have been feeling in my abdomen since I got up gets stronger.
Back in the cabin, I have chores to do. I make Father's bed, sweep the floor, and do the laundry. While hanging them outside to dry on the line between two trees, the cramps begin. My underpants suddenly are wet and as I take them off, a clear liquid runs down the insides of my legs. I try to take a deep breath, but each new cramp overtakes me more violently than the last. Finally, my knees give in and I sink to the grass. The walk to the house is too far, the pain coming back faster and faster.
"Daddy..." I mutter desperately. "Help me... please."
But he doesn't hear me, I am on my own. I can't tell how much time passes until my child is finally born. With my last effort, I take it on my chest. Its tiny body is red and wrinkled, covered with blood and grease. It does not cry out. Then exhaustion overwhelms me. When I regain consciousness, Father is back. He carries me into the cabin and lays me down on my bed.
"Just don't move", he curtly says as I open my eyes.
I nevertheless try to sit up. "Where is my baby?"
He remains silent for a moment as he pushes me back down. "It wasn't moving when I found you. You were passed out, I thought you were dead."
"Where is it?" I ask again, more urgently this time.
I get no answer and feel too exhausted to speak. He lets me rest. When I have recovered far enough to stand up again, he shows me where he buried the child. After he leaves, I pick a pale pink, almost white peony from a bush at the edge of the forest and lay it down on the soft earth. I don't even know if I gave birth to a boy or a girl. I am twenty.