30 April 1875

　　My delicate condition seems likely to declare itself soon. As my belly continues to swell, the seams at the waists of my dresses have started to dig into my flesh. Soon I will not be able to button them together at all. Thus far, the expansion of my womb has created a visible thickening without the rounding that tells the tale of a child within, but that shift will come. I do not have long before it does. In truth, I am frightened. When my mistress finds out about the potential life I carry, she will not be kind. The contract of my employment requires that I remain virtuous and unconcerned with the male species. I am neither. How it is within the rights of my employer to dictate such things gives me pause, but while the morality of such stipulations becomes increasingly dubious in my mind, the truth that no court of law would be willing or even able to vindicate me of my sins and breach of contract remains a firmly lodged reality.

　　What do I do at the point of inevitability when my swollen belly is discovered and the suspicions voiced? Do I speak truthfully? Do I risk exposing this potential life to abuse and destruction? If such a confrontation arrives before the quickening, will I be forced to swallow an herbal remedy to relieve my obstructed menses? My understanding is that such remedies have been declared unlawful, and yet I know the practice remains common behind closed doors.

　　If the rounding of my belly is not what exposes my condition, then my condition will progress. What am I to tell my lady when I feel the quickening? When the potential life loses the label of "potential" and the ethics of killing the child become more questionable, will my baby at least be spared? I can only pray that there is such mercy to be found, and that my condition can reach that point before it is discovered, though I expect that my lady will require a remedy or will toss me to the wolves in the streets, for she is not merciful.

　　I have come to feel naive for succumbing to passion without commitment or security for either myself or the child of my carnality. I still have yet to inform this child`s father of its existence despite our regular entanglements continuing without interruption. I have come close to telling him on numerous occasions, but there is a seed of doubt sprouting in my mind concerning his reception to the tidings. We have never discussed the potential for our activities to impregnate me except to assure one another that we will deal with that eventuality should it become less eventual. But what does that mean? At the time, it sounded like a promise of love and support. Now that it has "become less eventual", I fear that the love and support I heard in his assurance was a generous interpretation for a "solution" to my condition that is considerably less loving and supportive. If he does not desire to accept the responsibilities of his fatherhood, will he be the one to force herbal remedies down my throat?

　　And yet I fear what is ahead. Surely it would be simpler to dislodge the obstruction of my menses and continue as though nothing has changed. My waist would return to its usual size, I would not be required to suffer the abuses imposed for breaking the terms of my contract, I would not need to fear the rejection of my lover. Yet, this child is mine. This child is his. I wish my own child no harm. Surely he will feel the same way? I pray that such is the case.

　　I intend to expose my sins for judgment and censure when I enter the time of the quickening when I shall beg the father for his protection and assistance on behalf of the babe conceived in his bed. It is at this point that the life I carry can no longer be denied as a life, granting it new protections under law and societal pressures. I have accepted that I will undoubtedly be heavily burdened for my disgrace, but my child should be spared. More than this I dare not hope for.

　　Oh, God in heaven, I beg of you to hear my plea. I know that I am a sinner unworthy of thy consideration, but the child I carry is innocent. Let him be spared the cruelty of this house. Let him claim the life my sins have given him. If only he is spared, I will be content.

　　Sigh....

　　Ah. Sweet little Sarah is finally starting to think like an adult. She`s starting to think about something and someone besides her poor, miserable, little self. Parenthood has a way of doing that for most people- suddenly your existence isn`t all about serving yourself. It is a difficult transition. I know that, for me, after the joy of finally getting a positive pregnancy test back, when things "became real", there was a period of panic. I had spent so many years pining for a child that I hadn`t hardly put any energy into what I would do with one when I finally got one. When the realization came that I was going to become a mother, I didn`t know how to engage with that thought. The mechanics of caring for a child- feeding, bathing, clothing, sheltering- basic child care is challenging. But that`s just the basics, and everything that comes after simply not-negligent care adds layers upon layers of complexity to the task of parenting.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

　　The natural progression of child development builds you up slowly as a parent. The baby enters the world helpless, its needs basic: eat, sleep, cleanliness, warmth, comfort, love and physical contact, the occasional health issues. The baby grows, becoming more aware of and curious about its surroundings until it achieves the independence of mobility. Now the parent must protect the child from himself while slowly encouraging the expansion of their world and interactions with it. Curiosity continues to blossom, communication develops as their wants and needs become more complicated and their preferences and personalities more established. Children require increasing stimulation, interactions with peers, boundaries and correction; parents should read to their child to stimulate their mind and establish rules and routines. And soon the child is old enough to attend school&.

　　Yes. The natural development of a child increases their needs gradually, building the parent up to different and more complex forms of parenting.

　　Where was I going with this?

　　Oh, Lottie....

　　I sit rocking in my chair with paint swatches and wallpaper samples sitting in stacks on the floor. Sarah Atwood`s diary rests on my knee, my index finger bookmarking the page I`m on while I think in the stillness of the evening. My mind is tired. It feels like it`s been churning uselessly for many hours, and, in truth, it sort of has. The thoughts are not always coherent, and yet they insist on continued forward motion, often jumping to the next thought before the former completes itself.

　　What was I just thinking about? Parents and children? I reopen Sara`s diary and skim through the entry I`ve just read, the line "I still have yet to inform this child`s father" jumping off the page at me for some reason&.

　　I remember telling Fred that I was pregnant. I was in my mid-thirties, Fred was in his early forties. We had been trying for so long for a child that it was more a habit than it was an honest effort at that point. We`d had nearly every fertility specialist within one hundred miles tell us that pregnancy wasn`t in the cards for me. Fred accepted that answer much more readily than I did. He was comfortably settled into the notion that we would never be parents, happily planning a retirement, taking up hobbies&. I was nervous to tell him that things weren`t going to go according to this alternative plan he`d schemed up for his life.

　　It`s funny when you think about it. Why do people want children? Is it because we are told that we are supposed to want children? They aren`t convenient. You have to invest many years and resources into a child before you see any returns on that investment, and the returns are not even guaranteed! Even if you do your best to "raise them right", the child ultimately decides for him- or herself what they want to do with their own life. You may never get along. You may never be friends or even friendly. They may die. They may leave and never come back. They may choose a path for themselves that you cannot follow them down. In short, having children is a high risk endeavor. It`s uncomfortable and hard and frustrating and sometimes plain miserable&.

　　I don`t remember where I was going with that&. Oh, yes.

　　Creak....

　　Telling Fred that we were going to have a baby made me nervous because he was so comfortable without a baby mucking up his plans for himself, but in the end, there wasn`t much to do but accept the pregnancy. It`s not as though we weren`t trying. Thomas was born; Fred and I entered parenthood&.

　　Why do people become parents? Why do people want children? Why did I want children? You know, I don`t remember why I wanted a child so badly. I think it was just something that I thought I was supposed to want. All the old people said it was the one thing in their lives they were the most proud of and grateful for. I think I took their word for it. I can`t think of any old people who have openly expressed regret about having children. But then, I don`t know many old people like me.

　　Stomp, stomp.... Stomp.... Creak....

　　I don`t regret all of it. I regret how my parenthood ended. Thomas was a sweet child. He was a lot of work, as children are, but he was a good kid, and I loved him. Now he`s as good as dead. Except, for me, death might have been better than this. There is no closure in the way things ended up. I grieve his loss as though he were gone, but I still harbor a hope that he won`t be gone forever. And then the despair of waiting hits cyclically, and I grieve all over again. At least with Fred`s death, he had the courtesy to remain dead. I only had to mourn him once, with little reminders of that grief from the odd nightmare to pick at the scabs and make me bleed a little before they scab over again.

　　Thomas dies every day he remains gone.

　　While Sarah finds hope in the "potential life" in her belly, I see heartbreak. So much potential and so much pain all rolled up in the presentation of a swollen belly.

　　Sigh....