3 May 1618
Eight months old. I can hardly believe it. He's perfectly fine, according to Dolora, and I trust her. I've been giving him thicker brother, slowly, so he'll be able to eat normally by the time he's a year. Sigmun likes to feed him, even when he throws spoons. Or, tries to anyways. Sigmun's more patient than I am, too.
Simonn's been relaxing around Luke more lately. I guess she was afraid he'd hurt our baby the way I was. But sometimes Simonn takes Luke for a while to play and Sigmun and I can rest. Thank heaven.
9 May 1618
My son is getting quite close to talking, and to crawling. You can see him trying, sort of crawling and sort of rolling, and babbling syllables that almost sound like words. When he wants something he'll reach for it and try to grab it. It's precious. The only scary thing is when he actually gets a grip on something and tries to put it in his mouth. That is frightening.
And he's set up another good cry. I best go see what's wrong before it gets much worse.
16 May 1618
Now that he's been sleeping with only one or two interruptions, it's been much easier to deal with things. He's such a sweetheart. Dolora says it's easy (relatively) for a while, until two. She says two is a hard age, but I wouldn't know. I don't remember being two. I just know that's about a year and a half after my mother got me.
My baby likes his rattle and a ball Simonn brought from his old home, he likes kicking it while I hold him. He also likes playing tug-of-war, except of course he's not terribly coordinated or anything so it's adorable watching him try.
21 May 1618
He got his first tooth today! It was just a little white thing on the front of his bottom gum but it means he's getting teeth. He's been fussy about it but he has a sort of chew thing, like the one Simonn made for Joanne when she was a baby, and that helps. According to Dolora, it can be much worse, so I guess we're lucky that way.
As long as my baby is healthy and safe and reasonably normal when it comes to development I'm happy.
26 May 1618
He started crawling for real today, that is, with any sort of noticeable speed. And I'd write more but this means I have to keep up with him to make sure he doesn't get something bad in his mouth.
3 June 1618
Nine months old. He's really getting fast at crawling. It's adorable watching him scoot around because he's so excited to move around. He's adorable. I know all I've been writing for months is gushing about my baby, but I really can't help it! He's so sweet and so cute and he's my baby boy. Anyways, it's not like anyone will ever read this. (I hope.) I mean, I have a journal so I can write things out without worrying about people thinking different of me. And so I can sort things out in my head so I can say them without mixing up my words.
Well, my baby's off again, so I better follow him. I don't want him getting sick from eating something toxic.
7 June 1618
Simonn went to the graveyard again. He does that most weeks. He doesn't go to church, not like how Dolora doesn't because people don't like her and Sigmun doesn't because he wasn't baptized and I don't because I always sleep through it, but because he doesn't believe in God. I guess I can understand that, but I've always figured God's real. Maybe I'm mad, but I don't think God is a man. I'd never dare tell anyone, but I figure God doesn't have a gender, but if they did, I'd say she because people seem to blame her for an awful lot of things that aren't really her fault.
12 June 1618
We went to the market today and I just feel like the happiest woman in the world. It was sunny and warm out, so Sigmun and I went to run errands with Luke. We needed the usual: food, some fabric for new clothes for Luke (he's growing so fast), some tea, and a few other odds and ends. But mainly, Sigmun and I just walked around holding hands. I was cradling Luke in my other arm and Sigmun's grip on my hand was warm and gentle and his hand fit in mine like puzzle pieces. Luke made these precious cooing sounds and sometimes, he babbled a little bit like he's trying to talk. He's such a sweet child! I love my little family. It was a golden day today; no work, no stress, no pain or tears or the other things that haunt my normal days. It was just a perfect, golden day.
18 June 1618
It's always struck me as odd how careful Simonn is around Luke. He refuses to hold him and he won't be left alone with my little one. I mean, I'd have thought he'd feel a bit more confident around children because he had so many siblings. I suppose he's worried because of the four who didn't make it.
Today was Simonn's birthday, which is why I'm thinking of him. We tried for a real birthday, a decent meal that I hunted and one little puff pastry and presents, a notebook from Dolora and a pen from me and new socks from Sigmun. I hope we have Simonn a good enough birthday.
26 June 1618
I don't think I love anything more than sitting and playing with my little Luke. He loves the rhymes (even though he can't copy them), and he loves crawling around and putting things in his mouth (which makes me very anxious), and he adores playing with kitchen utensils (for whatever reason).
"Orange and lemons, say the bells of Saint Clement's. You owe me five farthings, say the bells of Saint Martin's. When will you pay me, say the bells of old Bailey. When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch. When will that be, say the bells of Stepney. I do not know, say the bells of Old Bow. Here comes a candle to light you to bed, here comes a chopper to chop off your head!"
"That is so morbid," Simonn interrupted.
"He likes it."
"He likes it because you're saying it."
"What do you mean?"
"You're his mother. He wouldn't like it so much if a stranger was saying it."
"He'd like it if you were saying it. You're his uncle. He loves you, too."
"I don't need any more children attaching themselves to me."
"Simonn…"
"How many of them am I going to be expected to put up with?"
"What?"
"How many of them are you two going to have? I need to know how many I'll be living with."
"You could get your own house."
"I guess, but…"
"But?"
"But I don't really want to leave here when it's already been home longer than anywhere else, alright?"
"Alright."
Luke gurgled and crawled over to me, pulling himself onto my lap. He plopped himself down there, quite comfortably, and started clapping my hands together. "Yes, little love. Clapping. Don't you like it?" He laughed again and snuggled close to me. It still amazes me that he's attached himself to me so firmly. I know I'm his mother, but it's still surprising that he has so much love for (of all people) me. He's so precious, though, with his big hazel eyes and thin blond hair and that cute gap between his teeth. I don't think I've ever loved anyone so much in my life.
29 June 1618
I got seven consecutive hours of sleep last night, which is definitely progress. He woke up hungry, so I had to take care of him. I don't mind, though. Six hours is plenty enough for me at this point. My baby has no idea that I'm almost relieved when I hear him cry because it means he's alive. But I'd rather hear him laughing, cooing, babbling and trying to talk. He'll be talking soon enough. I wonder what his first word will be? My mother told me mine was cup (before she hated me), and Sigmun says his was book. But Simonn says that of his siblings, it was Papa for four of them and household objects for the other four (though Mama and Simmie followed pretty quickly). Simonn's was bowl.
I wonder.
I should be able to go back to work soon. I feel bad that I haven't been able to go, but no one else can feed him, so I don't have much of a choice.
3 July 1618
Ten months. My goodness.
I remembered another lullaby last night. I wonder where I remember these from. Perhaps when I was little, before my mother hated me so much? At any rate, it was a little one. He seems to like it when I sing and dance around with him in my arms. I just walked around the library, singing lullabies and rocking him back and forth until he fell asleep. I think he likes the sound of my heartbeat, or the feel of it, the way I like resting my head on my love's chest and hearing his heartbeat, so I know there's someone there, someone who loves me. His little arms clinging to me make me feel like a protector, like a mother.
I've never before realized how much it means to be a mother. And I've never before realized how much Dolora did for me when my mother was failing to raise me.
8 July 1618
He's almost a year. Just four more nerve-wracking years to go before we're properly safe. He's getting big, but it's no effort to lift him up and hold him on my hip. He's bigger than that stuffed bear, though. He still adores it. He's so sweet, my little one. He loves Sigmun and Simonn and Dolora and me, and he smiles at everything, and he laughs all the time. I wonder if he knows how much we love him. I wonder if he knows how much I'll always love him.
Today, while Dolora was cooking, Luke kept reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes as if he wanted some (because sometimes I give him mashed potatoes for a treat) and Dolora kept giving him some.
"Dolora!"
"Dianna…"
"He'll get sick. You're the one telling me not to let him eat too much of that!"
"I'm his grandmother, Dianna dear. It's my job."
I scooped up my baby and held him on my hip. "Little love, you'll get sick!"
He giggled and snuggled up to me, all sweet and innocent like he is. "You think you're so clever, little one. Grandma's going to spoil you rotten."
Dolora laughed. "Dianna dear, will you tell everyone dinner in ten minutes?"
"Alright," I said. I don't mind so much Dolora spoiling my little one some. I think he'll grow up knowing he's loved. I hope so, anyways.
10 July 1618
My little Luke doesn't like these too-warm months. On the other hand, neither do I, so what can I say? But he's grumpy in the heat and I think the best thing to do would be to take him to the creek to splash around in the cool water. We'd keep a close eye on him, of course. I hardly let him out of my sight anyways.
I think I'll take him tomorrow.
11 July 1618
I took my little Luke to the creek today while my friends and my love were at work and watched him splash around. He was so precious, with his amazed face at the cool water, and he seemed to like it. I took him to the shallow part, the part where the water just trickles over the rocks and it's all of few inches deep. I loved that amazed look in his eyes when I set him down in the water and he stared at the cold creek like it was heaven. I sat on the edge of the creek and watched him play and even though it's so much responsibility and stress and there's so much to do and I haven't had a good night's sleep in forever, I love him and I'd never give this up.
14 July 1618
Today was his birthday. Twenty-three years old! There's no denying we're all adults by now, like it or not (and sometimes I'm not sure I like it). We're stretched thin financially, but between Dolora and Simonn and Sigmun's wages we scraped up enough for a nice dinner and a few baked apples. Little Luke didn't have any idea but was going on, but I think he understood that we were celebrating because he kept laughing and smiling. We did presents, sort of; mostly Dolora made the apples and Simonn got him a new belt and I surprised him by mending his cloak.
It may sound silly, but really just the four-five of us sitting around the table with a meal just made me happy. I read the books and all the heroes are always so unsatisfied with this, with peace and a family and little sparks of happiness, and I think I must not be a hero in a book, because the simple fact that I have my husband and my real mother and my best friend and my baby boy and just enough to eat makes me happy. On the other hand, most of those heroes have never really been unhappy, never been so afraid and hopeless like I was. I guess I'm satisfied with what I have because I never dreamed I'd have anything more.
20 July 1618
My baby boy is definitely old enough to understand what's happening around him a little because he looks up when I read to him, and he tries to speak back sometimes. It's undeniably precious. The only problem is that no one writes books for children so I'm stuck choosing my favorite novels and making sure there's nothing violent or scary in them. (Of course no romance novels.) He likes poetry, too, sometimes. I think he likes the rhythm, the way he likes the rhymes.
We had a nice day today. Food is more abundant in the summer and we just eat like normal, enough so that we can sleep. When I'm hungry, I find I can't sleep. But we're alright these days. Eating enough and all that. And my little Luke does better when I've been eating better, no real surprise there.
29 July 1618
I hate how hot it is these days. It feels like sitting in a boiling pot. I have to cook but I keep my baby out of the kitchen so he doesn't get sick from the heat.
He's been eating more and more broth lately, slowly but surely. He'll be fine to be really weaned by August.
3 August 1618
Eleven months old. Almost a full year. They say a year makes it safe, or at the very least safer. I mean, it's never really safe, but it'll be safer. I'm sure my persistent anxieties make me seem strange and worrisome, but I am scared for him. I know how many children die. I have faith in Dolora's skills as a doctor, but I just worry.
11 August 1618
I think he should be weaned by the end of the month. Sigmun's quite good at getting food into Luke and he's been eating broth and mashed vegetables. So I think by the end of the month I'll be able to go back to work, and hopefully not become Pamela's next target. I can't wait to go back to work. I can see Catherine and Susan and the others again. I miss their company. And I miss Hannah and Neolla and Mariek, too. It's just a little lonely being home all the time.
21 August 1618
Today was a good day. I'm headed back to work in three days, while Sigmun works out the particulars of quitting (I can't believe I forgot to mention how he lost his job around October and then found a new one in November with the dry goods store). He'll be taking care of Luke and I'll be back at the seamstress's. I can't wait to go back to work. I love my baby boy and I've enjoyed playing with him and reading to him all the time, but it's been a year and I want to go back to work.
24 August 1618
Today I went back to work! Pamela quit, apparently, and now Agnes is in charge. She has a grim face but she's better and less belligerent than Pamela. Even Johanna's calmed down a bit now that Pamela is gone. Catherine was excited to see me and I her, and Susan was kind even though she's shy. I don't like the heat and sweat in the seamstress's, but when I was sitting there sewing my buttonholes with Catherine, chatting like we hadn't a care in the world, I felt great.
25 August 1618
I'd forgotten the other advantages of not nursing my baby anymore. Besides work, it's not bad (apparently dangerous but I never found out for sure) to sleep together anymore. Which is nice. (I can feel myself blushing as I write this.) But it was very nice, like it is, and I felt good all of today. I got home from work, played with my baby, had dinner, read, fell asleep all comfy and safe in my bed.
It's a bit of a relief. I know my baby is being taken care of and I know we're making enough money that he'll grow up safe and I know that for a little while, things are going to be okay.