The three women made the bed ready for me to birth the baby. I couldn’t watch them, and stared out at the early afternoon shadows made by the oak tree across the yard. A pall of sadness settled across me. It was too beautiful a day for this tragedy to happen. I had been so happy in the stillness of pre-dawn.

‘We’re ready for you, Lotte,’ said Mutti, her voice quivering. I nodded. Despite my best efforts, we had reached this point. She reached for my hand, warm in my cold grip, and kissed my waxen cheek, leading me back to the bed.

‘Don’t fight it, dear,’ said the midwife, her warm hand on my shoulder. ‘This baby will be born today, no matter what you do. Try to relax and go with it. Fighting it will only make it harder on you, tire you and draw this process out.’

Fire deep within me flickered into life as I clambered back into bed, a scowl of fresh determination on my face. A rush of energy flowed through me, making my body tingle. I would fight to the very end. I wouldn’t give up on this child. I owed it to the baby, to Erich and to myself. I would do everything I could.

The nightmare truly began. My belly contorted with increasing intensity and frequency, barely giving me a breath in between to recover. All that existed was my fight, my screams of agony and despair renting the air while my body tried to expel the baby with red hot pokers of pain. Mutti held my hand, urging me on.

‘Don’t let go, Mutti,’ I rasped, my throat raw from my screams. ‘I can’t do this without you.’

‘Stay with me, Lotte. You can do this. Don’t you leave me,’ she whispered desperately into my ear. She held my hand tighter. I knew that women died in childbirth. Everything else that had come between us didn’t matter.

‘I’m not going anywhere,’ I whispered. Then the pain clouded my conscious thought once again.

My body throbbed, hot, swollen and ready to burst. My desperation grew. With each pain, I knew my baby was one step closer to certain death and there was nothing I could do. It was futile and, as the midwife predicted, only lengthened the experience and made it more painful. I refused to let go, sure that if I succumbed, part of me would shatter and never mend.

The midwife issued calm instructions to me now. My mother was constantly by my side and Tante Susie swam in and out of focus.

‘Push,’ commanded the midwife. I couldn’t do it. Eyes squeezed shut, I did everything to stop myself from pushing, my arm across my belly trying to prevent my child from being sent inexorably to its death.

‘Lotte, you have to push now!’ Mutti yelled in desperation. ‘You can’t stop this. I’m sorry, but you can’t. Please, my darling. I’ve lost my grandchild but I won’t lose you too.’

Thought crystallised in my mind. My mother was fighting the same battle I was.

I screamed, heartbroken, as finally, my body overrode my will and a primal urge to push overcame me, splitting my body in two.

My son was born against my will, slithering out silently between my legs. He was limp. He did not cry. He was perfectly formed – the size of a baby doll. I was not allowed to hold him, the midwife covering his tiny face with the blanket he was wrapped in. I took no notice of the activity at my feet, only vaguely aware of my mother holding my hand tightly, as if she didn’t want me to move. I felt numb, this wasn’t happening to me… it was all a bad dream that I would wake up from very soon.

*

I later learnt that Erich had waited alone outside our room during the birth. He demanded to see his son when the midwife emerged with the baby clasped to her chest. She was reluctant to show him – it just wasn’t done – but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

At least he held our son. I longed to hold my child, gaze into his sweet face, peaceful in death, but he was gone. Only in my imagination could I feel the weight of him, the warm, soft skin, the roundness of his head cradled in my hand, the wonder of his tiny hands and feet.

Erich organised a Catholic burial for the following day while I was convalescing. He was the only one in attendance. I mourned our son from the privacy of our bed. I wished I had been allowed to join him, to say goodbye and to give Erich support as he stood at the tiny grave. Instead I was confined to bed, my mother refusing for me to be seen outside the bedroom, urging me to rest while I could. All the while, my thoughts tumbled over and over, torturing my mind with what I could have done differently to save my precious child.

My breasts ached. They were enormous – swollen and hard as rocks. I longed for my baby to suckle from them, especially when my milk came in. I didn’t have to imagine what it would have been like, my body instinctively knew the feel of that tiny mouth around my nipple, closing tight and sucking greedily and the blessed relief that would come. Mutti showed me how to ease the pressure with warm cloths. There were no cabbage leaves to soothe the pain. Thin, milky fluid leaked from my nipples, staining my clothes, leaving me teary and opening the wound of my loss each time.

At night, I tossed and turned with discomfort. After a few nights, Erich turned to me tentatively.

‘Are you all right?’

I nodded. ‘As good as can be expected, but I’m finding it hard to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I replay what happened and wonder if I could have done anything to prevent it—’ My voiced caught. ‘I’m so sorry, you’ve been through enough.’

Erich shuffled in against me, kissing my shoulder. ‘There was nothing you could do. Just get well again. We’ll get on our feet and together we’ll decide what to do and where to go. There’ll be another child for us when the time is right.’

‘I know… I’m so glad you’re here.’ I held his hand and snuggled closer. ‘I don’t think I can get through this without you.’

‘I’m here for you. We’ll get through this together.’ He encircled me in his arms and, safe in the knowledge that I was not alone, I soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

*

‘There’s no reason for you to stay now,’ said Mutti casually as we folded sheets together a month or so after the loss of my son.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You could come home with me,’ she said concentrating on the sheet, refusing to look at me.

‘Mutti, Erich has a job here now. If we stay, we can help until Onkel Werner can get back to work.’ I brought the two edges of the sheet together, pulling it taut.

‘I didn’t mean for Erich to join us.’ She paused in her folding. ‘Come home. We can arrange a divorce. You have no obligation to Erich now. He can find lodgings anywhere in town. You don’t need to stay to keep him safe.’

‘Stop, Mutti.’ I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself but I could feel my blood boiling. ‘I’m not leaving him. I’ve made my commitment. It doesn’t matter what the original reason was or that the reason is gone. He has been my rock since… he has taken care of me. I am going to honour my commitment to him as he has kept his to me.’ I had broken my promise to Heinrich but I wasn’t going to break another.

‘But Lotte, Heinrich will still have you, I’m sure of it.’

My mother’s perplexed expression made me furious. She didn’t understand. I couldn’t leave Erich. I couldn’t do that to him after all we’d been through, after everything he had helped me through. Truth be told, I couldn’t imagine being torn apart from him now.

‘No, Mutti. I want to be with Erich. Don’t ask me again – I won’t change my mind.’

‘If Vati were here, none of this would have happened.’ Mutti scowled but I saw the fleeting fear in her eyes.

She continued to mirror my folds of the sheet until she handed it to me to make the final fold. I knew her silence was strategic. This wasn’t the last time I would hear her argument but I couldn’t stay angry with her. I knew she was worried about me and pining for my father. We had been waiting anxiously for news of him but had heard nothing. She badly wanted to return home, unwilling to be a burden on her sister any longer, although I think it had more to do with her strained relationship with Onkel Werner. She hadn’t forgiven him for what he had made me do.

Mutti would feel better if I was with her in München, back where I belonged, among the high-born families, the only world I had known until recently. But everything had changed. My child had seen to that. Because of him, I had turned my back on the privileged life I came from. Because of him, I now had the chance to live my life the way I wanted. I owed him that much.

*

In bed, Erich was gentle and patient with me, slowly allowing me to get used to him after the trauma to my body. He knew how far to go. His sensitivity and experience as a lover helped unlock the vulnerable part of me that I had pushed deep within me since our loss. This enabled me to feel safe to relinquish control once again and get back in touch with the passion that we shared. He surprised me with how easily he aroused me and with the strength of my response to him. Each time, my walls came down a little more. Each time, I lost myself further to him. Joy and anticipation returned to our nights together and in this way, I knew that I was healing not just in body and mind but in spirit too.

A letter from Vati finally arrived in early December. He had just been released from a POW camp outside München and was back home. He was well, he told Mutti and I, and looking forward to seeing us again soon and to spending Christmas together. Mutti shot me an accusing look as she read those words and tears filled my eyes at the realisation that I would not see my father this Christmas.

‘Come home with me,’ whispered Mutti urgently. We were alone in the parlour, darning socks. ‘I don’t want to leave you here.’