Note: This is just a chapter to describe some of Annabelle's curiosities about mothering before I really get the ball rolling! Secondly, the song at the bottom is a real song, but my computer won't let me put the accents on it. Thirdly, dear Mary the nursemaid is based off of a singer of the same name whom I adore. Can you guess who she is? If you can, I'll PM you to get a short description of yourself so I can put you in my story! Good luck! :)
Jacob sat next to Annabelle on their bed, marveling at the miracle that'd occurred just hours before. He'd sprinted to her as soon as he'd arrived from town to their home. He'd taken their son into his arms, shaking slightly, and looked for a moment as if he were going to burst into tears.
"He's beautiful," he said softly, his voice wavering a bit. "What shall we call him?"
Annabelle thought for a moment, wracking her brain for a suggestion. She hadn't really taken the time to think of any names for her child, seeing as she was in denial for three months of her pregnancy.
"Joseph," she finally said, looking up at her husband. "Joseph Jacob. For my father, and for his own."
Jacob smiled at her, his bright emerald eyes gleaming with pride. He'd removed his wig, and he sat bareheaded, his chestnut hair unruly and matted. Yet he looked more beautiful in that moment to Annabelle than any time before. A man completely content with the world, with his life, full of love for his family. She felt good that she could give this moment to him, and her heart swelled with love for both him and her son. She gently took the child from her husband, and cradled him tightly to her chest.
She gazed at Joseph, memorizing every single feature she could reach. He had large, dark brown eyes, which were closed at the moment, and a soft down of hair close to the auburn of Annabelle's, though slightly darker than her own. His lips were perfect and soft, as was his pink skin. She leaned down and gingerly kissed his forehead. He stirred slightly in his blankets, and settled down again, his long dark lashes brushing against his round cheeks. Annabelle felt completely content, and as Jacob lay next to her on the sea of sheets of their bed, any thought of Jack Sparrow was expelled to the deepest realms of unconscious thought.
"Feedin' time!" Mary cooed to Joseph, who was screeching out in his hunger. She pulled him from his cradle, rocking him gently in her arms. Annabelle entered the nursery quietly, watching as Mary settled down in the oak rocking chair to feed her son. She turned, having heard Annabelle enter.
"Is there somethin' you need, ma'am?" she asked, adjusting Joseph in her arms.
"Well…I've been meaning to ask you…I'd like to see how you feed a baby." Annabelle felt rather embarrassed in asking this, one for intruding on an event that seemed rather private, and two, because she did not know how it was done.
Mary looked slightly surprised. "Well..um…I guess, if you wish, dear. I suppose a mother should know how to feed a child. Come over here." she gestured to the window sill, which would face Annabelle directly in front of her.
Annabelle obediently sat, smoothing the skirts of her green gown out as she did. She'd requested to not have a corset until her figure had transformed into a somewhat normal shape, which she hoped would happen in the next few months. She felt rather…well…pudgy after giving birth. She hoped it was normal.
She face Mary quietly, watching intently the process of feeding an infant.
"I have to warn you ma'am, this will be exposin' some things I wouldn't be exposin' otherwise." Mary warned her before beginning.
Annabelle simply nodded, waiting rather eagerly to be shown one of the most intimate points of mothering.
Mary slowly unbuttoned the first six buttons on the front of her dress, exposing the underdress, which she slid downward, exposing a swollen breast. Looking at Annabelle apprehensively, she gently brought Joseph's head up to it, coaxing him to it with her dark nipple. He latched on eagerly after a few seconds, and Annabelle could hear him suckling loudly and gratefully.
Mary looked up at Annabelle, a little shyly this time.
"That's all there is to it, ma'am," she said.
Annabelle nodded, soaking in the process, making sure never to forget it. This process seemed very important in bonding as well as food.
"How do you still have milk? I thought only new mothers had it?" she asked, looking at Mary curiously for the answer.
"Well, I started nursin' babies after my first son, Logan, was born. Just before he finished his use of it, I began to nurse another baby for another family. The milk just keeps coming til you don't need it. So with each baby I nurse, on top of my own, I've been leakin' milk for years. I feel like a bloody cow sometimes, to be honest." she chuckled, adjusting Joseph about her breast. "'Scuse my language, ma'am."
Annabelle dismissed it with a laugh of her own, and rose from the window sill. She patted the nursemaid's arm as she exited the nursery.
"Tis nothin', dear," she replied gently, looking out the window and beginning to softly sing a lullaby. Annabelle paused a moment to listen.
I would I were in yonder hill,
It's there I'd sit and cry my fill
And every tear would turn the mill;
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan
Siul, siul, siul a run,
Siul go socair agus siul go ciuin
Siul go doras agus ealaigh liom,
Is go dte tu mo mhuirnin slan…
Annabelle felt goosebumps run up her back and arms. She had no idea how beautiful Mary's voice was. The song's melody brought forth a deep feeling of sadness and grief for her for some unknown reason. She walked down the hall silently, tears filling her eyes.
