Labor and delivery was the most memorable experience of my life. I had never felt such horrendous pain and miraculous joy in such a short span of time. It was exhausting and gratifying. The best part of the entire ordeal was holding my daughter for the first time. Just having her in my arms made me forget everything I had went through to bring her into the world. Looking at her face made all the suffering I had endured worth it.

It amazed me the way Connor stared at his daughter while I held her. The expression on his face was one of pure, genuine adoration. I think he even shed a tear when he got to hold her. He smiled at her continuously as he spoke to her in Kanien'keha. I didn't ask what he'd said. I felt it was private, just for the two of them. After a few days, I noticed he spoke one word to her often, as though he were naming her. I did ask him what it meant when he called her awe:ri.

"It means heart," he told me. "That is what I will refer to her as, because she is my heart."

I thought that was sweet, but still decided on an appropriate English first name to display my heritage. I chose Abigail. It flattered Achilles for me to name the baby after his wife. He thought it was perfect. Connor agreed.

I loved having a child, but Abby's around the clock demands for attention made me useless in all other forms of daily activities. I slept when I could, and it was rarely at night. For the first few nights, Connor and I let Abby sleep in the bed with us. That made feedings easier for me, but did little to help me relax. I began to put her in her crib between nursing. That didn't work very well. Connor would always get her if she cried and bring her back to our bed. It amazed me that he heard her so well. I would have guessed sleeping through a crying baby would be easy for him.

By the time Abby was six weeks old, she would cry every time I put her in her crib. I longed to have a night to rest without her pawing on me or waking me every couple hours. I began to get irritable and moody. Connor responded to my frustration by returning it with agitation of his own. It got to the point where every word we said to one another was laced with anger and spiteful. I realized my husband could be very sarcastic when he wanted to be.

At the beginning of July, I made the decision to move myself and Abby to my old bedroom. This choice made Connor livid. He refused to even speak to me for a week, and when it did, it was only to tell me that he was leaving. I didn't wait for any kind of explanation, I only nodded at him. I had heard the conversation he'd had with Kanen'to:kon. I knew where he was going and why. I hoped he would be safe, but I didn't express my concern to him.

Abby's sleep schedule had gotten better, but she was still spoiled to attention. I blamed that entirely on Connor. He held her every chance he got. He would even come and get her while I was sleeping and take her to bed with him. And him not being there to placate her made my mood even more foul.

Achilles wasn't much help. He adored Abby, but I refused to let him hold her all the time while Connor was gone. He understood why, but I still think it hurt his feelings a little. He advised me to keep her on a schedule, to teach her that there were times it was okay to be played with, but times when she had to be left alone. The first day I let her cry was the hardest. I thought I was a horrible mother. I would go in and check on her every few minutes. And every time I did, she would hush. But as soon as I left the room, she would begin to fuss again.

It was during all this that Connor came back home. He didn't exactly agree with the method I was using to raise our three month old daughter. In fact, he disagreed with it. Vehemently.

"Are you certain she is not hungry?" he asked as we lay in bed.

I had only started sleeping in our room again when he left. It gave me a little reprieve from Abby and helped her get used to staying in the nursery. I was under the impression that coming back to the room made Connor more angry than leaving it. He had been distant and disagreeable since he'd gotten home.

"I just fed her," I told him.

I heard him let out a growl. It irritated me so much when he made that noise. I hated it. I rolled over and glared at him.

"Do you have something to say?" I asked rudely.

My tone and expression was returned with a scowl from Connor. He sat up and stared at me. "I do have a question," he said. "What sort of person allows their child to cry without attending them?"

"She's not even crying," I told him, gesturing to the low whimpers coming from across the hall. "She's whining."

"Does she not still require attention?"

I sat up and sighed loudly. "Connor, she's been fed, changed, played with. She's not hurt, she not sick. She. Is. Fine."

He narrowed his eyes at me and I frowned. I felt like we had done nothing but argue since Abby had been born. I was sick of the fighting. I wanted things to go back to the way they had been. I was tired of him always being mad at me. Or ignoring me.

I sighed and tried to calm down enough to reason with him. "Achilles says-"

"She is not his child to raise." Connor interrupted, spitting the words at me.

His tone did little to help stay my own temper. I wanted to lash out. But I tried to control myself.

"I'm her mother," I told him.

Connor huffed. "Bearing a child does not make you a mother."

I stared at him as I felt tears sting my eyes. Connor had never said anything so hurtful to me before. No one had. I knew I wasn't the greatest mother. But I was far from the worst. I was new at this, and so was he. He had no right to judge me. No right to say anything about my parenting.

I swallowed hard, trying with all I had not to cry in front of him. There was no way I was going to let him know how his words had affected me.

"A ceremony in the middle of the woods doesn't make you a husband," I said.

Connor only watched me for a second, his expression too vague to determine what he was feeling. Then, I got up and left the room.

I spent that night on the same couch I used to sleep on when I had first arrived here. I didn't sleep well, because I barely slept. I lay awake crying most of the night, wondering how my life had managed to get so messed up. The times I did manage to doze off were filled with strange nightmares that made me never want to sleep again.