#yall the childbirth mod by pandasama is the actual best thing done to the sims 4

[sim-ply-lilacs]

Dear Irene,

I once again renew my efforts to draw you all to Brindleton Bay. If you and Seamus won't come for the good earth, clean air, and wholesome community, then come for me, your dearest friend. I so miss having you near! Would that life were as simple as when we were young, and I might stop over at yours for a cup of tea and a friendly chat on a whim. Especially now, as I am not able to make my way around Brindleton and Henford to do the marketing and meet with the ladies at church as easily as I used to. I can only imagine how strenuous I will find the tasks when my time comes nearer!

You will be gratified, I'm sure, to hear Josef has been marvelous in helping me in my current weakened state. I've never met a man more excited to become a father! Ever since I returned from the midwife and told him my news, he has spent all his waking hours either working the fields where I flatter myself to think he feels acutely the loss of my help, or working to improve the house for us. What was our bedroom has been split into a stairwell and a wee room for our newcomer. Our room, meanwhile, has been relocated to our brand-new second floor. It is a bit sparse, but it is more private, and it is ours! Of course, I was horribly emotional to think that the room I came to as a bride no longer exists, but I was calmed at the thought that we are doing well enough on the farm to afford these improvements.

Lest you think we are all work and no play, I will tell you how we have been spending our evenings lately. Mother is spending more and more time with her mysterious friend, and Josef and I find ourselves alone more and more. I adore Mother, truly, but I don't think I need to tell you how nice it is to have one's home and husband to oneself.

He dotes on me, my darling man. Josef is always touching me, pulling me close when no one is looking, placing a hand at my back when I am cooking our dinner, and especially caressing my (ever-growing) stomach. It seems so odd to say, but I don't believe he's ever been so in love with me as he is right now!

He is more impatient for Baby to arrive than I am, even. He pulled his father's violin out of storage and is teaching himself to play. Baby and I are his nightly audience. He is improving, but I confess I am hoping that my little passenger does not yet have ears. Other nights, he listens to me plod my way through children's piano books. We were gifted a dear, shabby old thing by a family moving back to the old country, and Mother and Josef were kind enough to fix the old thing up for me, so I might have something other than reading, knitting, and embroidery to occupy my time when I am too tired for much other than sitting.

One evening, though, we were occupying ourselves with none of these things. We couldn't seem to settle down to anything, not even to sitting ourselves on the couch. You would have teased me terribly for how sentimental we were being, caught up in the realm of fairies and fancies. He told me all about the plans he's making for our child. He wants to put away money whenever we might squirrel some away to give Baby and any more children we might have the chance for the kind of education we both dreamt of but never had the chance for ourselves.

I confessed that I love feeling Baby move. She is so little that Josef cannot yet feel much, but her little flutters are a near constant presence during my day—and yes, I am convinced that Baby is a she. Call it mother's intuition if you like, but I am certain about this. Josef teases me that this means we will certainly have twin boys, but of course I will love any children we are blessed with. Even if my pride will smart horribly if I am wrong!

We talked long into the night that evening, as we often do on Saturday nights when we plan to go to the late morning Mass the next day. The one thing we avoid talking about are the dangers to come. I am not so naive that I do not know how perilous what lies ahead may be. Mother lost many of her own before I was born safely, and almost lost her life when I was born. I have helped at my fair share of births, as well. You and I both have seen childbeds where mother or baby or both leave the grieving father behind. I try not to catastrophize for Josef's sake. He has already lost so much.

Still, in my happiness, I must plan for the worst. If...if it does happen, and I do not survive, please send the notes I have enclosed alongside my letter to you for Josef, Mother, and Baby, so they have something from me. I cannot shake the feeling that something may yet go wrong. The town midwife is capable, and I am young and strong, so hopefully this is all for nothing, and when you and Seamus and the children come out after the baby is born you will laugh at me and all my silliness.

To resume what I was writing about before that little sadness, I confess that I'm rather desperate for all the plans we talked of that night to come true. I would not change the life I share with Josef on Idyllwind Farm for anything, save maybe if Mr. Edison would see fit to run some of his incandescent lamps out our way, and we might no longer have to rely on our kerosene lamps and candles to light the way. Waking up next to this man, working on this farm, being with our animals and my mother and our neighbors and friends, feeling our child kick within me, living in my beloved Bay, I know my life has turned out the way it was always meant to.

And yet...and yet I don't want my child to feel compelled to follow in my footsteps.

I have chosen my life, and that is why I love it. My situation when Father died was less than desirable, but I could have searched again for work in town, I could have joined a convent, I could have forced Mother to come out west with me and taught at that school. I chose Josef, and I choose him every day. If this baby wants to work the land, then I will celebrate that this farm will stay in the family. If Baby wants to teach, then she will teach. If she wants to go to university, or join a convent, or be a tailor, then I want her to be able to have those things. Life is so much sweeter when you do what you are made for.

Well! That is all for this very, very long letter, my friend. Write me soon, and do tell me that you and Seamus will at least consider leaving that awful city behind and join us out in the Bay. I have included a few newspaper clippings for your perusal. One is the account of a concert of Mr. Dvořák's music, which the artist himself attended, where a man got up in the middle of a piece and loudly complained and what transpired hence which I found amusing. Josef read it aloud to me and had me beside myself with his performance. I have copied it down for myself, so I leave you the original clipping. Another is the obituary for Father, as I have finally acquired an extra copy for you. Finally, a listing for a farm near here. Do consider it, both of you! Josef and I have been to see the property and the cabin is sound, if small. Josef says the earth there is good, and there is ample space for the children to run around, and a good schoolhouse to boot—and it is only a half mile's walk from Idyllwind Farm. There! I have said my bit! Do give my love to Seamus and the children, and write back soon. I eagerly await your response.

All my love, Bea

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