Quote: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)

Quote: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)

Quote: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)