Autobiography of an abolitionist Part I

Time for a child

          A few years passed and Daniel and I were in our early twenties when we decided to have a child. I finally got pregnant and after four months I lost the baby. I cried for such a long time and was very reluctant to have another baby. I would often stare into space in the room that was to be the baby's nursery. I held a plaque that had wooden inscription on it. It said, children dance, children make us laugh, but most of all, children make our hearts leap for joy.
          After two more years of sadness, Daniel convinced me to try for another child. I got pregnant and the baby lasted for six months before dying during its premature birth. I screamed and cried, I never wanted to try for another child again. The paint was peeling in the nursery, that was never filled. After three more years of silent tears, Daniel sat down and had a talk with me.
             "Cat, I know that you don't want to try for another child, but the third time's a charm...right?"
             "Yes, but the children that we've tried to have, haven't survived more than six months. I just don't think it's worth it anymore."
              "I know, but why don't we just try one more time? We need someone to continue this bloodline. If we don't have anyone, then someone will have to inherit it, and they might change how we run it here. Do you want the employees to turn back into being slaves again? Or do you want an heir to continue our legacy?"
          "Alright but this is the last child I want to try to have. No more after this." I said.
          "Okay, I promise, this is the last child we'll try for."
          After about three months into the pregnancy, I found out that I was pregnant, and by the end of the pregnancy, I had a baby boy. His name was Matthew. He was a healthy baby, and he was quite the porker, but he was adorable. I loved him, and I never let him out of my sight. When he was twelve he asked about his grandparents and why he only had one, that being his grandma.
         "Sweetheart that's something that we'll have to explain to you when you're older."
    We left it at that, and we knew that he would ask again when he was older. He was often silent, and wouldn't talk to us. He worked on the plantation by his father's side. They worked day in and day out, only stopping for a meal or two. I would spend most of the day cooking or cleaning the house with the maids, most of which were former slaves, and that was just the way I liked it.

                         THE END