3 October 1619

I can't keep counting months like this. It feels too strange. After they turn two we count their age in years and now I'm just dreading his third birthday. Not to mention November seventh. I used to be glad the numbness was wearing off but now it just hurts more, thinking about my baby boy. Why couldn't he have lived? Why can't I wake up to my little Luke fussing in his crib because it's morning and he wants to get up?

I know why, but I'd prefer not to think about it.

31 October 1619

I can't believe I lost my journal again. I reckon it must be because I'm so distracted these days. It's hard to think very much, and I'm not sure why. It's just gotten harder to keep my thoughts in order. I can sew because it's mindless and function so my family doesn't worry, but I can't think much beyond about my baby boy.

Today was All Hallows' and we all went to festival, partly because Dolora insisted and partly because it would be very strange if we missed it; everyone goes to the festival. It was alright. We danced and ate like everyone else, but I sat out a lot of the songs because I was tired. Or, my mind was tired, even if my body wasn't. Or the exhaustion of my mind extended to my body. It's hard to tell.

Anyways, I danced with Sigmun a few times, and I could tell his heart wasn't really in it the way it used to be. He still spun me around like he does, and he still kissed me right when the song ended the way he always does, but I could tell he was tired. I think he was tired the same way I was.

Simonn seemed alright, though. Like he's recovered a little from the grief. I bet he has. He knows how to feel better after things like this.

1 November 1619

All Saint's Day today. We went to the festival again, and even though my heart really wasn't in it it could've been worse. It's just hard to be at the festival when I know it's the reason my baby boy died. If we hadn't gone to the festival my baby would still be alive. If we hadn't gone to the festival my baby would still be alive.

It was alright, watching the world move on while I do my best to not stand still. I saw Catherine dancing with Edward, and I hope they work out together. Catherine deserves to be happy, no matter how she finds happiness.

7 November 1619

One year. It's been one year since my baby boy died. I can't believe it. I can't believe just a year ago today I held my baby boy in my arms, his heart beating and his lungs working (no matter how badly). I miss him so much.

I had trouble eating today, so I just ate enough so my family wouldn't worry. And I went to his grave with Sigmun and we sat there, watching the flowers, until it was late and time for dinner.

9 December 1619

I lost my journal again. It was wedged behind the desk, and I don't know how. I wish I hadn't missed a whole month of writing, not now when I'm still stressed and tired and still grieving in some ways. If I don't write I cry or I blurt out everything to Sigmun too incoherent for him to understand. If I write first I can be coherent enough for him to help a little.

I need to write and I still don't know why. But if I don't, I feel like I might lose my mind. Maybe that's odd. But I can't just not write.

11 December 1619

Hannah's been over a lot lately, because she doesn't have any experience with being pregnant and I do. I don't mind, because Hannah's wanted children as long as I've known her, but I miss my baby and I can't help the hot jealousy I feel when she's talking about how excited she is to have a baby, even if she's hiding it and she can never really be her baby's parent she's excited. I feel so jealous and I hate it. I shouldn't be jealous of my friend when she can have a baby, something she's always wanted as much as-more than-me! And yet, here I am.

Sigmun had kind of a similar look, like he wanted so very badly to be a father again, but I didn't know how to ask.

15 December 1619

I feel awful and I don't know what to do. Sigmun and I were talking and…well, I'll just write it.

"Dianna, love?"

"Yes?"

"I was thinking, with Hannah being pregnant and all…do you want to have another child?"

I do, but I'm not…not ready. Not yet. So I shook my head and said, "No, I don't."

He looked absolutely heartbroken. "Not at all?"

"Not…not now. I'll think about it."

"You sound like my mother when I was a child whenever she didn't want to tell me no."

"I don't mean to. I can't have another child, not now!"

"It's not just you!"

"Well, it's not just you either, and no matter how you slice it I can't spend all day sewing buttonholes while taking care of a baby!"

"You quit your job last time!"

"And I don't want to again! We're both in this together, or did you forget it's not just about you?"

"I'm trying to be understanding here, but what I don't understand is whether you want to have a child or not!"

"I don't, not now!" I shouted, too loud.

"Well I do! Does that count for anything?"

"Not if you're going to ignore what I want! This is about both of us!"

"You know what? I doubt you'll ever be ready! I bet you'll just put this talk off for the rest of our lives until we're too old-you're too old-and we never have children because you weren't ready! What's it going to take for you to be ready?"

"Time! A little time! I just need some time!"

"Would you believe me if I said I might feel better about Luke if we had another baby?"

"It would make me feel worse!"

"Why can't you just try to see it from my side?"

I was very upset and so I just got up out of bed and said, "Unless you've got a damn good case for your side you can sleep on your own tonight!"

"What-I-?"

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or are you just going to stammer at me all night?"

"I think it would be good for us to have a second child!"

"Oh, so now it's 'us', not you? Now you think of us?"

"I was thinking of us from the start!"

"No you weren't, you were thinking of you!"

"So are you!"

"I don't want to have another child! I don't want to turn out like my mother!" I stalked away and I found the blankets I used to use when I stayed the night when I was a child, and I lit a candle and now I'm writing. I don't think I'm ready to have another child. My mother wasn't ready to have me and I'm not ready to have another child. I'm never going to risk doing that to a child.

16 December 1619

Simonn and Dolora could tell right away that something was wrong because Sigmun and I were glaring at each other and not speaking. Simonn sat with me on the couch after work (he doesn't work much in winter) and said, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows.

"Sigmun and I fought."

"I gathered that from all the shouting. What about?"

"Having another child."

He looked at me, questioning and confused. "I thought you both wanted kids."

"I…I don't, not yet. I worry that…that if I had a child now, I'd end up like my mother."

"I'm not sure that's possible."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, in the end, I reckon you're a better person than your mother. And you have so much determination to not be like her that I don't think you could."

"I'm still not ready to have another child."

"That's fine. I'm just telling you I don't think you could ever be like your mother."

"So what do you think?"

"I think you two need to talk it out. I may be your best friend but I am in no position to tell you when to have children."

"But who do you think is right?"

"Both of you."

I just looked at him questioningly.

"It might be good for him to have another child, but it might be better for you to wait. You can both be right. Dianna, it's a fight, not a competition."

I couldn't think of anything to say so I crossed my arms and said, "Then what do you think we should do?"

"If I was both of you? I would wait a few months. We're only twenty-four. There's plenty of time left."

"So…you think I'm right?"

"For heaven's sake, there's no right and wrong here! I'm saying you have time left to have children and there's no reason you can't wait for a little while. I'm saying both of you need to be reasonable!"

He sounded frustrated and annoyed and I felt kind of bad about being so invested in a fight that I'd thought of it as a competition instead of a disagreement, and annoyed my best friend.

"So try to make up alright? If you want a tip for that, stay calm. Don't think of it as a competition. More like a negotiation."

I nodded. "Thanks, Simonn."

"Any time, Dianna. Now go forth and make up with your husband and best friend."

"Thanks," I said. He took my hand in his and squeezed and so I went up to my room.

Once Sigmun was home he saw me in our room and blushed. "Dianna-"

"I'm not here to get angry at you."

"Me neither."

"Then…can we talk?"

He nodded. "I prefer talking to fighting."

I nodded my agreement. "Then…okay. You go first."

"About children?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Well, I want to have another child because I feel like it would be good for us, to be able to take care of a baby and to be able to move on. I feel like it would help me at least to not keep wallowing, you know?"

I nodded.

"What about you?"

"Well, I…I don't feel ready to have another child. I don't think I could handle having another baby right now. I know it's important to move on, but I just don't think I could handle that right now. I really do…I see where you're coming from but I don't think I can do that right now."

"Do you think maybe…at some point in the future?"

"Yeah. Not now, but…later."

"I thought you were just closed off to the whole idea!"

"No, no. I thought you wanted a baby right now."

"No, that's-I want another child, but there's nothing urgent about it."

"So it's okay with you to wait for a few months?"

"Yes. And it's okay for you to have another child someday?"

"Yes."

He threw his arms around me like we hadn't seen each other in fourteen years and said, quietly, "I love you."

"I love you too. Why the dramatic hugging?"

"I was worried!"

"Worried about what?"

"I…I don't know. I guess I was worried I'd lose you."

"It was a fight, not the end of our marriage! And even so, you're my best friend, and you've been my best friend since we were children."

"And we're still best friends now," he said, taking my hands in his and pressing our foreheads together. It's so nice when he does things like that, like he knows I can't help but be afraid when someone's upset with me. "I love you."

"And I love you."

He kissed me and it was so nice to be kissing him like that because I love him so much. I love him more than one fight, the way I love the rest of my family.

21 December 1619

Christmas is coming. The snow is falling and the trees are all bare and skeletal. It's the second Christmas without my baby boy. I miss him so badly when I remember his first Christmas, how happy and sweet he was and even though he didn't have any presents. He didn't know any better. I think this might be a little easier, though. We had Christmas without him before-I'm sure we can have Christmas now that he's gone.

I hope so, anyways.

25 December 1619

Happy Christmas, I suppose. It didn't feel very happy. We did presents, like always. A book of poetry for Sigmun, a set of new jars for Dolora, a few magnets for Simonn (he does like them). A new journal from Sigmun, a new dress from Dolora, a hairbrush from Simonn. We had dinner, like we always do, and it tasted like Christmas dinner should. Most food tastes like food these days, instead of like cotton the way it used to.

We went to the festival too, and Sigmun and I danced like we do. As usual I danced with Simonn too, and in some of the quicker dances I danced with Mr. Fletcher and Mr. Cooper and the other men in the village, because in those dances we switch partners so fast I can hardly keep track. It was fun, dancing like that, but I saw the women with children sitting off to the side and I remember sitting there with my baby while I clapped in time to the rhythm and I miss it.

Andrew didn't dance much, because he doesn't want to risk anything, and he was wearing a loose dress so no one could tell. He's definitely showing, but if I didn't already know he was pregnant I don't think I would've noticed. I hate that I'm so jealous when he's so happy, but I am. I want to be as happy about my baby without all this awful, crushing sadness.

Simonn's tentatively happy, I think. I see him smiling to himself, humming even, and I think he's excited to have a baby, even if he'll never really have the chance to be a father.

I must be going mad. How can I be so happy for my friends and so painfully jealous at the same time?

28 December 1619

Hannah was over today, and she looked up and then down and then said, "I'm so sorry."

"Pardon?"

"I realized the other day, at Christmas. You were looking over at the other mothers. I shouldn't be talking so much about my own baby right now!"

"It's been more than a year."

She looked at me skeptically. "I had the same childhood you did."

I forget she can lie just about as well as I can, and we can both see through other people's lies. "I'm sorry, Hannah. I know you're happy and I shouldn't be jealous. I have no right to be jealous!"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been talking about my baby all the time when I should've known you would be upset. I mean, I can't imagine what it must be like."

"How about-how about this," I said. "I feel awful asking, but if you could talk about it…just a little less?"

She nodded. "Of course. I was really insensitive."

"No, it's fine. I was the same way when I was pregnant. Really, Hannah, there's nothing to worry about. I'm sorry for being so jealous."

"Don't worry about it. I understand."

I smiled at her and it was so nice to clear the air with her. I hated being jealous and just sitting there while Hannah and Simonn are so happy. I hope Simonn feels the same; I don't want to ruin our friendship just because I'm jealous.

31 December 1619

Tomorrow begins a new year. I hope it's at least a little better than this one. I hope Hannah and Simonn's baby is okay. I hope I find myself ready for another child. I hope I'm able to feel okay someday.