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Dear Diary: 13. 10. Winterfilth 1368
10. Winterfilth 1368
Being a mother is not as easy as I have thought. I haven't slept for more than four hours in a row the past weeks and I am more exhausted than I have ever been. Yet I could not be happier.
My little Frodo is a darling, though his life consists more of sleeping than of anything else. But, even in his sleep he is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen before. Before each nap, he gives a great yawn before settling and even this simple gesture enchants me! His little pink mouth will open so very wide, his eyes will close and then his lips - perfect, little petals - will smack silently as his breathing softens and he drifts off to sleep. He is utterly charming when at ease.
But woe to the one who annoys him! At least once a day, especially during his bath and dressing, he will cry at the top of his tiny lungs and struggle with all his strength. And strength he has! More than I ever thought possible for such a delicate being. He is still so small, but my Frodo is a little fighter and even after so short a time knowing him, I can feel a hint of his father's stubbornness in him.
On the day of his birth I could not believe he had been in my womb for nine months. Now such a thought is even harder to imagine, though I have come to accept that he is mine and Drogo's and won't disappear if we turn our backs on him. Of course, that doesn't stop me from worrying the minute he is out of my sight. He is my precious, after all, and I want to protect him no matter how small his troubles might be. I can no longer imagine life without him; can't even remember how it was before he was born. Never has my life been as fulfilled as it is now. Where else could I put my energy, if not into my dearest child?
Gilda stayed with me the first few days and showed me how to wash, swaddle and nurse him. When she was sure I could manage on my own, she went back to the Hall but assured me she would be available in case there was any trouble. In the beginning, I was very nervous, but so far I have been able to cope with every situation that has arisen. Frodo is doing remarkably well. He has grown a bit and is as healthy as I could wish him to be.
Drogo got accustomed to his new role as father very quickly. I'm glad he does not have to be on the fields anymore and is able to lend me a hand or two. He is very proud of his son, beaming with joy and pride whenever he looks at him. His smirk - that reminds me very much of the young man I have once married - becomes even broader when people ask about little Frodo.
Bilbo, though accommodated in the Hall, visits us almost every day. He is crazy about our dear Frodo and jokes about not leaving Buckland again until the three of us promise to come with him to live in Bag End. Watching him holding Frodo in his arms almost brings tears to my eyes. I think he is now realising what he missed in his life. He is ever so gentle with my dear baby and already tells him tales about far-off places. If Bilbo continues like this Frodo will come to love stories and be as eager to hear them as Drogo was as a child. I can see Frodo loves Bilbo also. He seldom complains when the old hobbit takes him into his arms and listens to his uncle's soft words intently. Usually Frodo will look at him with bright eyes and the fleeting shadow of a smile that melts his uncle's heart as it has seared mine. Seeing the two of them, I cannot imagine why he never had a family of his own. He would have been a wonderful father.
O, my dear child! That smile is the greatest gift you could give me. It touches my very heart and fills it with the warmth of love and light.
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