**Personal Diary Entry**
*November 10th*
“Mum, stop lecturing me. Mark and I were planning for a baby in three years… three years at the earliest! We’ve got so much going on—projects, plans, a trip to Spain, for heaven’s sake. A baby right now? Seriously?” The irritation in my voice was sharp enough that Mum hurried to drop the subject.
Young, ambitious, ready to take on the world… then, out of nowhere, an unplanned pregnancy.
“Love, just… don’t do anything until we’ve been to Greenfield, alright?” she murmured.
***
For as long as I can remember, we’ve always celebrated Mum’s birthday in Greenfield. I never understood why—those quiet, candlelit dinners, then a visit to the chapel at dawn.
“Dad, why do we always go to that village for Mum’s birthday? It’s so boring!”
“Without Greenfield, there’d be no you, no your mum… maybe even no me. Understood?”
“Understood,” I grumbled, though I didn’t understand at all.
This year, Dad was gone—heart attack. Watching Mum cry herself to sleep, I was the one who suggested going back to Greenfield.
“Charlotte, I thought you hated it there.”
“I love you, Mum… Just us, though. Mark can’t get time off.”
***
The stifling heat had lifted, leaving something almost magical in the air. Mum stepped onto the terrace, breathing in the scent of freshly cut grass and wild strawberries.
“I wish Edward could see this…”
“Remember when Dad and I baked your birthday cake?” I chuckled, draping a blanket over her shoulders. “Flour everywhere—the kitchen, the porch, even the shed. And you just laughed and said it looked like a winter wonderland.”
“Darling, I need to talk to you about the baby.”
*Ugh, here we go.* I exhaled sharply. “Mum, don’t. Mark and I have made our decision. We want our freedom.”
“Just… let me finish.” Her voice wavered, eyes glistening. “You know you were a late baby. The doctors said I wouldn’t survive the birth. Not a chance.”
“Oh, Mum…” I hugged her tight, feeling her tremble.
“When Edward found out, he was devastated—started smoking again. He wanted children so badly, but he loved me more. Said he couldn’t live without me.” She wiped her cheek. “Then my friend Margaret invited us to Greenfield. I went to say goodbye.”
“You… you were going to die for me?” My breath hitched.
“I’d made up my mind. But telling Edward? That was agony. I went to the chapel, prayed for guidance. One evening, coming back, I saw the neighbor’s barn on fire. A dog ran inside, came out with a puppy in her mouth, then dashed back in. The roof collapsed—she emerged, half-burnt, eyes blistered, nudging her pups to check if they were alive. When she realized one was missing, she went back. Five minutes later, she dragged out a third pup, dropped it at my feet, licked my cheek… and just… stopped breathing.”
She swallowed hard. “Edward found me sobbing, clutching those puppies. He never asked again. He just… understood. His eyes were red every day until you were born.”
“And then?”
“You arrived healthy, on time. The doctors called it a miracle.” Her face softened.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?”
“I suppose… it wasn’t time.”
***
A year later, Mark and I bought Mum a cottage in Greenfield. Sitting on the terrace, cradling my baby boy, I whispered, “This is our best project, Mum. Our happiness. I can’t imagine trading it for some hollow idea of freedom.”
Mum smiled faintly, as if speaking to someone unseen:
*We didn’t live this life for nothing.*
