by A. L. Knorr
So as not to disappoint my son who patiently taught me to read and to write when he was young himself, I shall resolve to document a simple woman’s hopes and thoughts. I have no delusions that a diary can ever remain private and so I shall write to you, dear reader, and imagine that you may be a distant descendant of mine or perhaps have come across this diary by happenstance a century after I have turned to dust.
By way of introduction, you may know me as Aleksandra Iga Novak. Wife to Emun Mattis Novak and mother to Mattis, whom I shall write more of in a moment. Iga for my mother, may God rest her soul, and Aleksandra as many a woman before me have been called in these parts. I shall not admit that for years I detested my name because it was so common, for I am a good Christian woman with much to be grateful for.
My husband and I have one child, and we have now arrived at my favourite subject. I had to stop myself from saying 'only one child' lest you think me greedy, but in the spirit of honesty I can admit to you, a stranger, that in my secret heart I had wished for a house bursting with children. But such things were not to be and I was told by good Doctor Woznick after a thorough inspection of my person that Mattis alone was a miracle. And so we have Mattis, our son. And what a son to have been given.
I can hardly understand that he has come from myself and Emun. Even as a boy he showed superior intellect and understanding (forgive me my boastful words. but I will be honest within these pages or write not at all). Perhaps all mothers feel such a way, but truly, even if I were an outsider looking in, I should be in awe of the young man Mattis. For at the tender age of seventeen he displayed a faculty for business unlike any in his family before him. He began his own newspaper before even finishing his studies and saved every penny he earned to pour into the shipping business he now runs.
I admit freely that his ambitions frightens me at times, for even now he is shouldering responsibilities that neither I nor Emun would ever dream to undertake. Mattis informs me with all sincerity that one day I shall be the lady of a great house and while I must bite my tongue to keep from laughing at such predictions, there is a corner of my heart that believes that if anyone can bring such a dream into reality, it is my son. I have watched him with pride and sometimes outright shock at the consistency with which he seems able to realize his ambitions.
When Mattis returned from his last shipping commission—a job that took him all the way to a place called the West Indies, where the spice trade is booming (it was the longest journey he had ever made and we missed him horribly)—he shocked both Emun and me by returning with a wife.
In Sybellen, my son could not have found a wife with stranger habits or a more secretive past. The girl is beautiful, to be sure, but has failed to provide a history for herself and seems hesitant to speak more than a few sentences to anyone but Mattis himself. I'm thankful that in the least she seems to be as eager for a baby as I am for a grandchild.
Mattis had not so much as written to warn us of her existence before he arrived with her by his side, but what could we do but welcome her into our home and our family? Sometimes the decisions that shape our lives are stolen away from us by our own loved ones. I imagine that had I a diary at the time of her arrival, my entry regarding her appearance in our lives would not have read so serenely. However, I have moved into acceptance and the four of us live relatively peaceably together in our small house by the sea. Perhaps, given our close quarters, I should be grateful for a daughter-in-law who rarely speaks instead of one who does not know how to be silent.
But this is the closing of our Christmas day and the light grows dim. Although Mattis tells me we are to no longer worry about wasting candles, old habits remain alive in me and I hesitate to light one. So for now, I shall say goodnight and Happy Christmas. I shall meet you here again when something is worth writing about.
I have my doubts as to what that might possibly be, for my life is as constant as the rain on a March day (look at that! Perhaps there is some small poet in me after all). Do not be surprised if this is my first and last entry. Perhaps the pages after this one shall be filled with scribbles of my grandchildren.
Jan 17, 1862
Well, my dear reader, I told you that I shall write when something of worth is to be saying and I can hardly think of a day that is more worthy of remembrance than this one. Perhaps only my wedding day and the birth of my son can rival the news I am about to share.
Today is Mattis' twenty-seventh birthday and while that is a happy occasion, it is not what makes this day worthy of dripping ink onto this empty page. Mattis and his wife Sybellen have reported that they are to have a child! When I look at the words written down on the page, I am dissatisfied they cannot portray the gladness in my heart.
Sybellen, whom I have not introduced to you in full detail yet (it may take me some time to work out how I am to properly describe her, since a more perplexing creature with a stranger name I have yet to meet) is the happiest that I have ever seen her and for the first time since she came so mysteriously into our lives, she has given me a proper hug and a kiss on each cheek. I almost fell over and Emun, whose eyebrows are growing bushier by the day, gave such an expression of surprise when she did that it confirmed for me that her lack of affection had not gone unnoticed by him either.
In my private thoughts, I hope that her condition means that she'll stop swimming in the ocean so much as she has. She's made a habit of rising early every morning and swimming for stretches of time that go beyond my comprehension. Even before the sun rises at times, I hear her leave through our front door and she does not return for several hours. What any person can hope to gain from so many hours in or by the sea is beyond me. I've given up asking Mattis to explain her habits, as it appears he thinks its good for her health and she can do no wrong besides.
One oddity I shall report is that I asked Mattis when Sybellen had seen Dr. Wozniak for I didn't remember her setting or attending the appointment. He shocked me by answering that she had not seen the Doctor at all. When I asked how she knew she was pregnant he replied (as though it was an everyday occurrence that a woman diagnose her own state) that she just knew. I have asked him to please ensure she has the Doctor confirm it for what a disappointment it would prove to be if she were mistaken. Mattis gave me the look that tells me I have overreached myself (oh how I've come to hate that look) and so I silenced myself.
For the time being I shall work to not be the meddling mother-in-law that I myself had to contend with, and shall content myself with happy thoughts of an addition to our little family.
I take much pleasure in thinking of what delicate little handmade thing I can concoct for my future grandchild, and Emun has already taken to calling the wee one a lad. Only time shall tell and as best we know (or as near as Sybellen can tell us at this time...would that I had the gift of prediction that my daughter-in-law has) that the time to meet the babe shall be this autumn.
Aug 30, 1862
Another day worthy of note has passed and I sit and write this sometime around midnight because I am far too energized to sleep. Dr. Woznick was here today to examine Sybellen and report on her progress. She is growing very large and I've been blessed with occasion to feel the movements through her belly.
Dr. Wozniak spent considerable time examining her with his hands and with a remarkable device he's acquired from France called a stethoscope, through which he was able to hear the heartbeats of two babies! So it seems that all is better than well because she is to have twins. This old heart of mine can hardly handle such a surprise for never before in either the Novak family or the Kalf (my maiden name) family have twins occurred.
Mattis was overjoyed to hear that they are to have not one but two babies, but Sybellen looked not surprised in the least. Perhaps she could tell but never said. She did however surprise us all by asking the Doctor if he was able to tell the sex of the children, as apparently this is one factor that was beyond her. To his credit Dr. Woznick told her he had his suspicions but that there was no exact science to l
earning a child's sex for certain while still in the womb so he wouldn't venture to say.
In a private moment just before our good doctor was to leave, I asked him if swimming in the ocean might be a poor practice for a pregnant woman. He surprised me that by saying if the water was warm enough that it might even do her some good (although he has colleagues that he knew would disagree with him).
These August days are hot and I must admit that even I have been tempted to frequent the shore a time or two to enjoy the delicious coolness that comes off the water. So I shall bite my tongue for the time being as it seems the doctor does not find it dangerous, but I'm in wonderment at her constancy and loyalty to her daily exercise. Most women I know take extra care and rest during these days of pregnancy, but not Sybellen.
Perhaps now I should put down on paper, since I find I have the energy to write, that Sybellen is a woman of the unexplained.
Mattis, since running his growing shipping service, has taken to being away for long stretches at a time. On his last journey (I forget if I have told you this, forgive an old woman her mind), he returned to us in the fall of 1861 already wed to the beautiful Sybellen. Upon meeting her, I remember thinking that I had never seen such a beautiful girl. Skin like porcelain, bright azure eyes and midnight black hair. However, it is not her beauty that truly sets Sybellen apart, but rather, her behaviours and passions. Or more precisely, her lack thereof.
From the very beginning, she has given us none of her story. Despite questioning about her place of origin, her family, her education and any of the normal items of interest one should like to know about the woman who marries into her family, she has remained silent. Sybellen has never once satisfied our curiosity about any aspect of herself. Indeed, she seems content to say as little as possible even in the fleeting moments she remains in the company of Emun and me.
I do not wish to give you the impression that she is unfriendly or rude, for when we do see her she is polite and respectful...there is even a warmth about her at times! But I get the sensation that her only wish is to be around Mattis This is heartbreaking for simple people such as ourselves who dreamt of an ever-expanding and close-knit family. The woman our son has chosen simply does not make this possible.
I have spoken to Mattis about these things when I have had the chance, but I hesitate to continue in this vein. He can become sharp with me and makes me feel like the nosy mother-in-law that I promised myself I would never be. The most I could glean from him is that they met on a small island in the West Indies when he had to make a delivery there and they knew at once that they were to be together always. They were a many months journey away from home at this time, which was the reason they were married away from home.
Mattis has described the people of the West Indies as warm, full of life, and dark skinned from the sun, but Sybellen is none of these things. But what does a barely educated elderly washer-woman to know about such things? I have never set foot outside my own village and cannot even imagine the worlds that my son sees while abroad. My (hopefully) now extensive vocabulary is a benefit of having such a worldly son, but my ambitions stop there. Indeed, at one time, I wouldn't have dreamed of filling empty pages with my own words.
Sept 15, 1862
As the day draws nearer when I am to meet my two grandchildren, the summer seems ever more beautiful to my aging eyes. My daughter-in-law is by far the largest pregnant woman I have ever seen and Emun has wondered out loud more than once that the doctor might have been mistaken and that she is to have triplets. He jests, but our Sybellen does display a belly that could provide accommodation for three. Indeed, Sybellen is roughly the size of a house. Luckily, she is also the tallest woman for miles (Mattis thankfully surpassed his own father's height or he should feel unmanned by his wife) so she can bear such belly. The good doctor says to expect the babes at the end of the month which is only two weeks away and so preparations have already begun.
Sybellen has honoured me greatly by requesting that I attend her at the birth. She also accepted my suggestion to use the same midwife (Ana) who was of great help to me at the birth of Mattis. Dr. Wozniak humbly admitted that Ana is better educated than even he in matters of childbirth. I choose to see Sybellen's request as a sign of good faith in me and not as evidence that she knows not a soul in the village and certainly not any good midwife.
Sept 16, 1862
You'll see from the dates that I wrote only yesterday. Such frequent entries are not a habit of mine but I'm so agog at the happenings from today that I simply must record them for fear that I'll wake up tomorrow and think that they were simply a daytime fantasy of mine.
Today is Sunday and as always, Emun and I attended mass. Sybellen never attends with us unless Mattis is home, and he's currently still away, so we left Sybellen to the privacy of her morning.
When we were returning from service we noticed as we approached the yard that our front door was ajar. We looked around for Sybellen but she was nowhere to be found. Just as we were inspecting the contents of the house to be sure there was no stranger inside or some accident (my heart has rarely pounded so hard as when sneaking into my own dark home afeared of what might be inside), we saw that the bathing tub had been set up near the fireplace and was half full of steaming water. The house had taken on the odor of seaweed.
Upon leaving the house with this strange scene, we came upon an even stranger one: Sybellen walking up the long path from the ocean carrying our yoke with two of our largest water buckets full and affixed to the chains. She was walking up the steep path and under this formidable burden (with her belly protruding out in front of her like the prow of a ship) seemingly without any effort at all. Emun nearly tripped over himself in his rush down the path to aid her. As he approached, she had the decency to look sheepish--though I'm convinced she was not regretful of her foolish behaviour, but simply embarrassed at having been caught in it.
As I watched breathlessly from the top of the path with sharp words on my tongue for the risk she had taken in her condition, she set the water buckets down and allowed Emun to take them from her. Nearly half of the water sloshed out due to the slope of the earth. I was relieved to see her meet with her senses again, but my shock was to be far from over.
My darling husband is not as young as he used to be and as I watched his noble effort, I could see clearly that he quivered and bowed under the weight of such a burden. The buckets merely shook and spilled more of their contents into the sandy soil.
I was shocked speechless to see that Sybellen also witnessed his strain and immediately begged him to put the yoke down. He did so, but it it was not because she asked, but rather that his legs and back were not hale enough. Sybellen's face expressed such concern to see him bow under the yoke and for a moment all my anger vanished and my heart swelled with love for her.
Before Emun could catch his breath, she shouldered the burden once more and strolled up the remaining way as though she were carrying no more than a knitted shawl across her shoulders. She greeted me with a nod and a 'Mama' as I stood there with my mouth agape (I was not delicate for I can tell you I have not had such a shock in my life before) and entered the cottage to dump the buckets into the large iron pot over our fire to heat.
Emun and I were too surprised at her to speak and it wasn't until later this evening that I asked her why she chose to fix herself such a bath. Surely the well water would have been suitable? Surely she could have waited until Mattis was home and given him the task? She answered that the seawater eased the aching in her hips and kept her strong. Furthermore, she needn't bother Mattis for such help when she was capable of doing it easily on her own.
For the hundredth time, I found my imagination full with wonderings of what a strange people my daughter-in-law must have come from.
If that wasn't such a shock for me, imagine my surprise when my own darling Emun elected to take a bath in the tepid seawater once she was finished. I had merely to look at him to earn the retort, 'Well, if she's able to accompl
ish such a task while pregnant due to seawater baths then who am I to call it foolishness? Perhaps some of my own youthful vigour can be recovered in this tub of ocean swill, too'.
Oct 3, 1862
Yesterday, our twins were born. They came early in the morning with barely enough time for Ana to arrive. I have never seen such an easy birth. Before I get to in the details, I must make mention that Mattis has not returned home yet although he was due several weeks past. These shipping excursions are never precise since so much depends on the weather (delays can be caused as much by storms as by lack of wind or poor wind direction), but I know that he will be making every effort to come home knowing that his firstborn children were to arrive at the end of September.
We do try not to worry when Mattis is delayed. It happens often as there are always storms happening in the North Sea and the Baltic. Mattis is as good a Captain as any and does whatever possible to be home. I am not convinced Sybellen sees this, as she becomes so melancholic when he is away. The poor girl, who barely strings two words together most days, complains about Mattis being late more than any other subject I've heard uttered since I've known her.
This morning I woke up to the sound of the front door. In our small house no one can leave without announcing it to the rest of the inhabitants. I glanced over the edge of the loft and saw Sybellen's large shape go outside, presumably to relieve herself. It occurred to me to check on her that morning for whatever reason and a good thing I did.
