1 January 1617
I almost wrote 1616 in the date today. It happens every year, and I was tired today (for once I don't actually know why). But it's a new year and a new beginning. We're starting from the beginning once more.
I woke up late today, so late that Dolora was making breakfast. I don't think I've slept so much in so long, but I was so tired. I wonder if I'm catching a cold. What a great way to start the year.
My darling husband was sitting at our desk reading and when I stretched to wake up, he said, "You know, I thought happiness started with an H. Why does mine start with U?"
"You're kidding me."
"What?"
"That's adorable, but you know we're already married, right?"
"Doesn't mean I don't get to be romantic anymore."
I couldn't help but smile. "I really love you."
"I love you too. Shall we eat breakfast?"
"We shall."
It was a good rest day. I'm glad there wasn't work today; my fingers hurt even more from sewing all those damn buttonholes in the winter.
7 January 1617
At work today Catherine mentioned that she'd like to work somewhere else and I was surprised.
"It's not bad here, not really."
"I suppose not," she said. "But think about it! We could work somewhere exciting, like the city. Imagine being a seamstress there! Or-oh, you'll think I've gone mad."
"I won't."
"I'd like to work in the palace. I'd love to sew those grand ballgowns you see the princess wearing, with all those jewels and all that. It would be so much more fun than this." She gestured towards the dress she was stitching, which was done off the pattern Pamela makes us use (I'm not fond of it).
"I'd like to work at the university," I said. "I want to study languages."
"That would be amazing," Catherine said. Then she giggled. "But you'd have to deal with men all day, every day!"
"That would be the downside," I agreed. "But it would be so wonderful to work somewhere full of books in all sorts of languages. I hear they have books from places like Asia!"
"Now you sound mad," Catherine said, laughing. "But that does sound nice."
"How mad is it?" I asked. "My father was a trader, and he used to bring me back toys from places like that."
"He was? What happened?"
"I…My parents were not kind people. We don't speak anymore."
"I'm sorry."
"It's fine. It's probably for the better, actually. What sorts of dress patterns do you use normally?"
Catherine smiled when I changed the subject and it makes me sad how many people have dreams they'll never be allowed to reach.
13 January 1617
I really wasn't feeling well at all today. I vomited again and I was feeling snappish, even though there's nothing I'm really upset with right now, not to mention waking up with a pounding headache. I guess I should take some of Dolora's cold medicine so I don't miss too much work. I hate to say it, but we really need the money I make at work.
And I need to get a new bodice. My old one must be wearing out, because it's been hurting to tie it the way I normally do. I haven't bothered to get a new one in a while, so I guess I'll just get one next time I have time after work.
19 January 1617
Another blizzard today. I think that's the third this year. I swear winters just keep getting colder every year. But it's less stressful and more fun to walk to the village with Sigmun and sometimes Simonn or Dolora, and it's always nice to walk home with them at the end of a long day.
22 January 1617
There is one advantage to winter: when it's cold like this, I can pull all the blankets up to my chin and snuggle close to Sigmun and not feel too warm. I like being close to people. That is, I like being close to people who I love. Being close to my mother mostly meant the times she slapped me, or pinned me against the wall while I couldn't breathe from her hands around my neck, or when I was so mad that her face seemed to take up my whole field of vision. Being close to Dolora mostly means when I'm in pain or I'm crying and she hugs me so I don't feel so alone. Being close to Simonn mostly means sitting next to him while we read together and there's a certain sort of warmth that reminds me that I have friends. Being close to Sigmun means a variety of things I would never write down here, but also hugs and kisses and just generally him being the kindest and most comforting person I've ever known. I'm just grateful I have all of them.
Anyways, today was a Sunday, so no work, so I didn't have to get up right away. Instead, I lied there, quite content in his arms, and decided I wouldn't wake him up. For all his enthusiasm during the week, he sleeps like a log on Sunday mornings. Which is at once endearing and slightly irritating because sometimes I have to get up Sundays and I have to spend fifteen minutes waking him up to get him to move his arm. But today, I just sighed and let him sleep.
After a while, he woke up and blinked twice. "It's past dawn! I'm gonna be late!"
"It's Sunday, Sigmun."
"Oh. Right." He closed his eyes and said, "Then why am I awake?"
"Because you woke up."
"Ah. Yes," he said vaguely.
"I'm not so sure you're awake."
"Me neither."
"Alright," I said, curling up closer to him. "You feel free to fall asleep again. I'll be right here, very comfortably."
"Why aren't you comfortable now?"
"Your heart's beating faster. And you're breathing hard."
"Oh, well, I'll just breathe slower for you then."
"If you wouldn't mind."
"You're so silly."
"That's why you married me."
I grinned at him and he kissed me and it was nice to rest in bed for a while before getting up to live life the way we do normally.
4 February 1617
Sigmun lost his job again today. We all know why but the shoemaker said it was because the quality of his work was degrading.
"My work is better than anyone else's! I know how to make shoes, he just doesn't want me working there because I don't have parents the way everyone else does!"
"Don't worry, dear, you'll find something else."
"And then they'll just give me some other reason for why they don't want me around. I'm sick of this! Why does it matter so much who has a proper father and who doesn't? For that matter, why does anything matter except how you do the job? Why do we all treat each other like this?"
"I don't know," I said. "I wish I did." And I do.
He sighed and stopped pacing to sit on the bed. "I'm so sick of this."
"Me too."
"And it's worse because I know somewhere there's some poor child without a father who's going to grow up hungry and live alone because no one cares about the illegitimates."
"What am I, chopped liver? And what about Dolora and Simonn and the rest of us?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
"I just wish I could change things, you know? I wish I could change the world so we'd all treat everyone just like everyone else."
"I do know, my love."
He sighed a world-weary sigh, like he was seventy instead of twenty-one, and rested his head on my shoulder. "It's alright, darling. Everything's going to be just fine."
"I suppose."
"Everything is always okay in the end."
He nodded and then nodded off and I stayed up to write.
9 February 1617
I suppose I've been looking stressed because Catherine commented on it today.
"My husband lost his job. He wasn't making much, but we needed that."
"I'm sorry," she said, frowning sympathetically.
"Thanks," I said, and I fully intended to go back to work, but then Joanne interrupted.
"I said he was useless, didn't I?" she asked with this horrible tone of triumph.
"Why do you care so much?" I snapped. "He'll find something else. He always does."
"You're saying that because you want it to be true about your darling husband," Johanna said.
"And because it is true. Not like you'd know anything about being married, or ever will." That might've been a bit mean, considering how often she talks about getting married.
"Leave it alone, Johanna," Catherine said. "You too, Dianna. Just get back to work, we have things to do."
Johanna glared at me one more time and glared right back before we went back to work.
16 February 1617
Simonn's siblings were over today, and it felt strange because they're still more like children and we're more like adults. But Richard's fifteen, which is plenty old enough to work, so Simonn's been bringing him to work and he loved to talk about it.
Simonn's siblings don't like his uncle, either, but they have a few years to find jobs and move out before he starts jumping down their throats.
27 February 1617
I think I must have some sort of illness, more than just a cold. I was horribly sick this morning again, I barely made it to the kitchen before I vomited. And I've been tired, too, which doesn't make much sense considering that I always get more sleep in the winter because the sun is down longer. I'll talk to Dolora tomorrow.
28 February 1617
Oh my goodness. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. I must be pregnant again! It makes sense. It feels about the same as two months after we were married, and it would explain the snappishness and the exhaustion and the way my favorite stew tastes like mush some days.
Two months. Maybe I'll wait a bit before I tell everyone else. I'd bet anything Dolora will know before I tell her, but I think I might wait before I tell the rest of my family.
22 March 1617
It's a good thing I found this today. (It fell down the back of the desk like it used to at my childhood house.) Today I told Sigmun about the baby, which took so long because I'm still afraid it'll happen again. He was just as excited as last time because he's a sweetheart that way, but I'm still nervous. So many things could go wrong, even discounting actually giving birth. Maybe afraid is a better word for this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, running quite contrary to the fluttery excitement that comes with the hope that the baby and I will both make it out alive.
Either way, I hope things go well.
Oh, and Sigmun found a job at the bakery. I hope this one lasts.
4 April 1617
Dolora gave me a mixture of herbs today she said makes it easier to be pregnant sometimes. Of course she just knew. I guess the constant vomiting was a pretty clear sign. The herbs did make it easier to stomach my supper, which is always good.
7 April 1617
I felt the baby kick today. I wasn't at work, I was just reading, so at least I was alone. It's the strangest sensation, it really is. But at least I know it's alive. I know that for now it's alright.
10 April 1617
I'm so glad the nausea's easing off. It was horrible before. But I've started to alter some of my shirts and dresses so I'm ready and I've just given up on my bodice for safety's sake. The annoying part now is that walking to the village just winds me! Dolora says that happens because there's only so much space in your body and as the baby takes up more your lungs get less.
Actually, I've been having more nightmares lately. I think it's just worry getting to me. They're the usual nightmares, with a few about bleeding to death or something like that thrown in. I can deal with the usual nightmares.
16 April 1617
It's probably April 17 by now, but I have to write. Simonn and I just don't fight. I mean, I don't usually fight with Sigmun either but I can't even remember getting mad at Simonn.
Sigmun and I were up late (three guesses) and then I was about to go to sleep but I heard Simonn crashing into things downstairs so I guessed he was making tea. I figured he might not be doing too well because I heard him drop a pan and shout a curse so I got out of bed and put on my robe to see if he was alright.
"Simonn?"
"What?" he snapped, slamming the kettle down on the stove.
"First off, if you break the kettle, you won't be able to make tea. Second, are you alright?"
"No."
"What's wrong? Is it the nightmares?"
"Of course it is!"
I sighed and said, "I'm sorry to ask, but did we wake you up?"
"No, but you're also not helping. At all."
"Sorry," I said sarcastically. "Do you want a friend or should I just go back to bed?"
"How about you go back upstairs with your husband and make all the noise you want and I'll just sit here miserable and lonely and you all can forget that I can never actually marry the person I love?"
"Maybe I will! If all you can do is insult me, I won't waste my time!"
"And if all you can do is make babies, I won't waste mine!"
Considering he doesn't actually know I'm pregnant again yet (which I should tell him because it must be four months by now), I suppose that wasn't intended to be quite so inflammatory. "Fine! Sit around and mope all day and night, see if I care!"
"I'm sure you won't, not when you're busy being-"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence." I think I may have jumped to a conclusion about what he was going to say, because he usually doesn't say things like that, but I was angry. "I'm going to go to bed and if you feel like getting over your self-pity problems and actually talking for once, feel free to come find me."
"Go ahead! I won't be seeing you tomorrow!"
I ignored him, tossed my head back the way I do when I'm in the market and I don't want to talk to anyone (which is usually), and marched back upstairs. Sigmun was still asleep, which is impressive, and I just thought I'd write so I can stop fuming and get some sleep. I still do have work tomorrow.
I hope Dolora wasn't awake. She doesn't get enough sleep as it is, worrying all the time.
17 April 1617
I said Simonn and I don't fight, and I guess we just don't fight for long.
I spent all day at work wondering how I could apologize because I guess it was half my fault and I came up with absolutely nothing. I wanted to say sorry for getting snappy and insulting him and saying things I knew would get under his skin, but I never really know how to apologize and this was no different.
When I was sitting in the library Simonn sat next to me and I was all set to snap at him again, because I was still kind of angry, but he handed me a cup of mint tea instead.
"Dolora said if we're going to argue please try to stay quiet," he said, and I felt horrible because it's not his fault he gets nightmares like that.
"Oh."
"I'd rather not argue with you," he said, like he was five years old. "So I'm sorry."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have snapped at you, it's not your fault I felt so awful."
"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have snapped at you, either. I mean, it's not your fault you have nightmares."
"Friends?" he asked with this shy little smile, and I remembered when we were kids and he'd smile at just about everything he saw.
"Of course," I said. "Best friends. But if you have nightmares again, would you rather I sit with you or not?"
He shrugged and sipped his tea. "I guess I'd rather you sit with me, if you happen to be awake anyways."
"As long as you don't get snappish again, I'd be glad to."
"Thanks."
"Any time. What are friends for?"
He grinned again, kind of tired-looking, and I asked, "Do you want to talk about your dream?"
"I guess. It was really bizarre, though. You'll think I'm mad."
"If knowing you for fourteen years hasn't made me think you're mad, nothing will."
He laughed at that. "I dreamed about all of us dying. I think. It was really hard to tell, and I think I was blind. But there was screaming, the three of you and Hannah and me and maybe Neolla, it was hard to tell. And I tasted blood, lots of it. Someone with really cold hands was holding my shoulders and there were these heavy iron cuffs on my wrists and ankles and I was scared and angry and there was something happening that I remember thinking was really unfair? And then everything got quiet, and then Sigmun screamed so loud it hurt my ears, and then I woke up and everything just hurt."
"That sounds horrible! Do you know what was happening?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "Something bad. Something really, really bad."
"Can't we do something?"
"I don't know what was happening, or when. For all I know it's tomorrow."
"There's a scary thought."
"Yeah. But I have a feeling it's in a few years. At the very least."
"I hope so."
"Me too."
I sipped my tea. "Hey, don't worry. Whatever happens, we'll have each other."
He nodded.
I'm glad we're not fighting. Simonn's part of my family just as much as Sigmun and Dolora and I'd never want to lose his friendship.
I should probably tell him I'm pregnant.
21 April 1617
I can see a bump forming on my belly and while I'm excited and daring to be hopeful, I'm also really nervous. I'm worried because I think it's been about four and some months and I think it was five last November and I'm just scared. And the nightmares just keep getting worse.
Oh, and I told Simonn yesterday. He said congratulations, and I don't really know what I expected.
I do wish all the not-so-pleasant parts weren't necessary. Besides the varieties of soreness I'm not used to, my skin's been turning all these funny colors. Dolora said it's from my skin starting to stretch out and it's normal. At least the nausea's mostly gone. I think that was the worst of it.
27 April 1617
I was thinking about baby names today, which I tried not to do last time just in case (and look how that turned out). I was sitting in the library, staring into space, and Sigmun sat next to me and said, "Penny for your thoughts."
"Baby names."
"Oh." He thought on it for a minute. "No idea."
"We could always ask Dolora and Simonn. They're bound to have ideas."
"Mm-hmm."
I sighed and rested my head on his shoulder. "I'd rather not worry about it for a little while."
"Alright."
We read until dinner, and I guess I'm just worried because this is when it all went wrong last time and now I'm worried it'll happen again. I don't know if I could handle that a second time.