Guten abend, Guten nacht.

Romy.

-3rd pov-

-October 7th, 1921-

Imas cries of pain and gasps for air filled the bedroom, accompanied by hushed voices outside on the hall, and the soft sloshing of cold water in a bucket.

"Shhh...shh"

shushed the midwife, dabbing imas face and neck with the cold rag.

Ima cried in pain once more, squirming as if trying to find some way to relieve the pains she felt.
Her heavy, labored breathing and increasingly frequent outbursts of wailing told the midwife she didn't have much longer to go.

Setting the rag back in the bucket of ice water, the midwife tenderly felt imas stomach.

"Ach je, nicht mehr lange."
("Ah dear, not much longer.")

She said with a smile.

But ima did not smile back, instead, she threw her head back and screamed once again in agony.

The midwife pulled back imas hair again for her, gently wiping sweat from her face, and moving the hair that had basin stuck to her face by the sweat.

She brushed imas hair back and braided it again neatly, before taking a deep breath in. She took imas hand and guided her through breathing, giving her a look of reassurance.

Soon, the midwife stepped away from the upper edge of the bed, lifting imas dress out of the way, as it draped down between her legs.

With careful attention she examined her, before looking back up at ima, who looked down at her with desperate, fearful, almost angry eyes.

"du machst das gut"
("You are doing well.")

She said softly.

The midwife silently gathered her tools and laid them on a leather mat she rolled out on the base of the bed beside her, preparing herself for the final moments after the hours she had been laboring in bed.

Suddenly, imas labored breaths became sharp and shallow, her body tensed, and she threw her head back ones again in pain.

Guttural, almost primal screams and German phrases filled the room. The midwife slipped her gloves on and waited with baited breath between imas legs.

imas screams came to a head, but soon, were replaced by slightly gurgled cries of an infant.

The midwife smiled with an air of relief as she held the pink child in her hands, looking up at ima, who lie panting as she sunk into the bed.

"Oh...ima..."

She smiled.

"es ist ein Mädchen"
("It's a girl")

When ima held her newborn daughter, a small, slightly uneasy smile crossed her face. But she loved the girl despite her worries and doubts. So drained from the birth of her daughter, she spoke softly through exhausted breaths.

"Rosmarie..."

She whispered

Ima smiled down at her daughter, who blinked slowly, coughing once softly.

"Hallo Romy..."

-winter, 1921-

The sounds of a calm night filled the outdoors, creeping in through cracked windows that leg in the gentle breeze.
The two sisters stood in the hallway in silence, each waiting for the other to speak first.

"Ima..."

"Es hat keinen Sinn, sich jetzt darüber Sorgen zu machen. Du musst einfach weitermachen."
("There no sense in worrying about it now, you must just keep moving forward.")

Ima sighed as she leaned her body against the doorframe, it creaking softly.
Her hazel eyes drifted into the dark room behind her to the bassinet beside the bed.

"Inga Ich kann nicht ohne Sorgen vorankommen."
("Inga I can't move forward without worrying.")

She said with an exasperated sigh.

"so hätte es nicht passieren dürfen."
("It shouldn't have happened like this.")

Ima continued, her eyes still fixated on the bassinet.

Inga shook her head as she too glanced at the bassinet.

"aber es tat es. und es gibt nichts, was wir jetzt tun können."
("But it did. And there's nothing we can do now.")

Inga said as she moved closer to her younger sister. She reached to place her hand on imas shoulder, but ima moved away from her touch. Inga frowned, a small sigh escaping her.

"Ich habe sie verdammt..."
("I've damned her...")

Ima said, her voice quiet and solemn.

"kaum."
("Hardly.")

Inga replied simply.

At last, ima looked back to her eldest sister, her eyes tired and burdened.

"Nein, Inga, ich kann nicht einfach weitermachen. etwas muss sich ändern."
("No, Inga, I can't just keep going. Something has to change.")

Imas voice sounded slightly more bitter now, her brows furrowing in frustration.

"ima. Eine Heirat bringt nichts in Ordnung."
("Ima. Marriage won't fix anything.")

Inga warned.

Ima stopped leaning against the doorway and threw her hands up defensively.

"Was schlagen Sie mir dann vor?!"
("Then what do you suggest I do?!")

Ima shouted angrily.

"Ima..."

Before Inga could respond to her most likely rhetorical question, crying came from the darkened room behind them.

"Großartig."
("Great.")

Ima sighed.

She turned to face her sister once more before entering the room, the cries growing louder as her shouting had awaken her newborn daughter.

"Ich bin fertig damit, darüber zu reden."
("I'm done talking about this.")

Ima said, disappearing into the room as she shut the door behind her.

Inga sighed, feeling helpless for her little sister.
She listened as her sisters muffled singing could be heard, the child's crying ceasing completely.
In a sense she felt bad, because she had got what she wanted. She wasn't on a situation where she needed to marry, and was able to be happy on her own.
Yet her younger sister was stuck scrambling to find a suitor to father her child. Inga worried that her sister would only prioritize a man's money and willingness to father, and not their compatibility.
She knew Romy was Ima's first priority, but she wished it didn't possibly come at the cost of a happy marriage for her little sister.