Test results.

Measurements.

Medication schedules.

Dates.

Lists of questions for the next visit, written out the night before in her careful hand.

She had lost a baby at eleven weeks, in a fog of not-knowing, and I understood without her ever saying it that the notebook was how she kept the fear at bay this time — that if she could just write everything down, hold every fact in her hands, then perhaps nothing could be taken from her again by surprise.

I never once teased her about that notebook.