Cristmas Day, 1877

To My Sweet Little Daughter,

This is your first Christmas and I am finally able to sit up and write this for you. The miracle is that we both lived. I wish I could have kept you, and I hate that I have to take this money. It isn't because I don't want you... I want you so badly it hurts, but I cannot provide any kind of life for you if I am this unwell. My only hope is that you are loved by your family as much as I love you. I know what I can do for you... I can make you a future for your adulthood with the notes your father left me with explicit instructions telling me I am not to even approach you. One day, I will be able to return what he gave to me, and then tell you all about what really happened.

I want you to know that you are so very loved, my baby. Please forgive me.

Your Mother,
(Name Redacted By Kimmie)

January 11, 1878

To My Sweet Little Daughter

I wonder how you are growing right now. Do you have your father's hair? Or is it still that curly mop I got to at least spy after you came to us. I would never be able to forget your little cries, so quiet compared to your siblings... they all gave lusty cries, and yours were barely heard, my child. I only got a glimpse of you before he took you away. It is the thought of you that drives me to fight for life. I promise you one thing.... I promise you that one day, you will be able to make your own choices in a way that I could not. I've talked to someone. I've talked to the bank with the help of a lawyer. They have helped me put some of that money away and to forget about it for a time. By the time you are a woman grown, you'll be able to break away and make your own life the way you see fit as a young lady of means where you will not have to rely upon the mercy of those who have you in their home.

(name redacted)

February 2, 1878

To My Sweet Little Daughter,

I think of you every day. I don't write to this journal enough for you, but I have a lot of life to fit into this book and maybe even a few more, so it is a way of not overwhelming you by the time you finally get to see this. It's not fair at all that I don't get to hold you in my arms or to smell the way your hair should smell after you've had a bath. I imagine you are an inquisitive little babe by now... You should be crawling soon, and you should soon have a tooth or two, perhaps. I wonder if your eyes are still blue or if they deepened into a lovely coffee brown, or maybe even darker. I hope that you have an infectious laugh and bring joy to those around you. You're so very loved.

(name redacted)

February 27, 1878

My dearest child,

I am sure by the time this is read by you, you'll not be able to read this page because of the tears. I weep for you because I cannot hold you in my arms and rock you. Your nurse has kindly written me about you, to tell me that you are sick but not in the way I have always been. Your family got hit with a fever and you almost didn't make it, but I am so glad to know you are just fine now. I wish you knew that I would have taken you away if I was allowed. Your father resists my attempts at contact, I am not allowed to write letters to you or show my face in that ugly house again.

I hate that his wife gets to pretend she is your mother. It's clear by accounts from those who know me, that she isn't caring unless her peers are there to see what a "loving" parent she is. I want to be your mother so badly it hurts and Magnus keeps me away. Every pence he sends me goes into the bank unless I need it to survive, and even then, I only take as much as I need and not a cent more. By the time you are old enough to inherit, regardless of my state of being, you will be wealthy. Your father sends me 50 pounds every two weeks right now. And once I am able to work again, to be on my feet, my own money will be added.

I am going to be an author and write novels too. You won't know it's me until I reveal myself to you one day. Hopefully, that day will come hastily. I cannot wait to see your beautiful face.

My Undying Love to You,
(Name Redacted)