Chapter 24 The Birth
The Birth
Moringen
Helene was constantly weak. Her belly was not as big as she expected it would be. But the past few weeks it had been hard
to walk or bend over and especially hard to sleep. She lay awake at night, thinking, listening to the cicadas serenading the
moon, and studying the birds that greeted the dawn and the bright blue skies that almost every morning brought.
There was a big hole in her heart for Anna, but Helene tried to focus her energy on helping Alice, on teaching her fellow
prisoners to read and write, and on keeping the library going. Everyone was more careful now with the books, and Helene only
loaned out the German works that were not on the banned lists.
One morning at the beginning of August, Helene could not get herself out of bed to go to the workshop.
The block leader allowed her to stay in the barrack.
She could not get comfortable, but tried to read nonetheless.
She could not concentrate on the book, though.
Her mind raced with worry. She had not received a letter from Derek in two months.
Lena’s response had encouraged her, but it was unnerving not to have news from her husband.
Surely he knew the baby would be coming soon.
Helene pulled out the bundle of letters she had accumulated and reread them for the thousandth time. She had always taken
on too much in her desire to care for others and help them be happy. Here at the edge of her strength, with death so close
at hand every day, the only duty she assigned herself was to love.
After reading again the last line from Lena, she put all the letters away. She attempted to sit up to look out the window
but settled for studying the barrack instead. It was hardly more sophisticated than a barnyard stable. The odors were ripe
in the summer heat, and cockroaches scampered across the floor uninhibited. Fleas and bedbugs were constants. It was a mercy
that there were no mirrors at Moringen. Yet Helene had caught her reflection once in the water of the washbasin and had not
immediately recognized her own face. The gauntness of her cheeks made her eyes look inhumanly large. The protruding womb stuck
out oddly from her emaciated frame.
Helene stroked her stomach and spoke to the baby. “I never dreamed you’d come into the world in a place like this. I’m so
sorry. Mothers want what’s best for their children. But I want you to know you’ll never be lacking for love. Your father loves
you so much, even though he’s far away. I know he’ll get us out of here, and we’ll be together again.”
Helene changed positions. The active child inside her made it hard to breathe. The baby squirmed as if trying to get out and
into her arms. Its movements delighted Helene as much as they caused her discomfort.
She resumed her cooing. “You’ve also got grandparents, and Aunt Amalia, and Aunt Lena too.
Plus our cat—you’re going to love Kaiser.
You’ll be his new toy. I promise I’ll get you out of here.
Sometimes I think about the world you’re about to know, and I just can’t .
. . I wish things were different, honey.
But the good thing about this camp is that it’s helped me get my priorities straight. ”
Helene struggled to sit up on the side of the bed and started panting. Out of nowhere, a contraction doubled her over with
pain.
“So you’re ready to come, are you?” she whispered as her water broke.
Helene did not know who to call out for. She struggled to stand up and felt both water and blood trickling down her legs onto
the dry wooden floor.
“God, help me,” she cried out, terrified.
The few yards to the door were endless. She finally made it to the threshold and opened the door, but the courtyard was empty.
Everyone was at work. Helene frantically looked around, then started the journey to the infirmary.
Just a few yards from the barrack door, another contraction came. She bent over and breathed deeply, waiting for it to pass.
Then she willed one foot to move forward again, then the other.
In the middle of the courtyard, a shooting pain threw her to the ground. A prisoner leaving the kitchen on an errand caught
the movement out of the corner of her eye and ran over to help.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“No,” Helene panted. She was sweating, her eyes were unnaturally wide open, and her face was mottled red. “I’m in labor.”
The other woman was momentarily speechless, not having noticed the bulge at Helene’s abdomen. Then she reacted and ran to the hospital barrack. Soon thereafter she returned with two other women and a stretcher. They got Helene on it as gently as they could and carried her to the building.
The operating room and exam room were one and the same. Dr. Ruth stretched Helene’s limp body out on the bed and said soothingly,
“Women have been doing this for thousands of years.”
News traveled fast, and soon Alice showed up. She grabbed Helene’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
Helene wanted Derek beside her, and she knew he wanted to be there. But she returned Alice’s squeeze, then held on for dear
life as another contraction came.
Every jolt ripped her apart, and Helene felt the urgency to get the child out of her body as soon as possible.
Ruth raised her head and caught Helene’s eye.
“It looks like the cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck. I’ll have to turn the child from the inside,” she warned. Then
she gently inserted her hand and coaxed the baby’s body around.
The pain was unbearable, but it kicked off Helene’s pushing response, and soon thereafter Helene felt the baby seemingly shoot
out of her like a cork from champagne.
She heard an infant’s cry and craned forward to see. His purplish face was scrunched up, and his mouth was opening and closing
as he took in oxygen for the first time.
Ruth cut the umbilical cord and put the baby in Helene’s outstretched arms. The warmth of his body, the softness of his skin,
and the smell of blood imprinted themselves upon her mind. She clutched him to her chest and, tears streaming, said, “Welcome,
Alexander. I’m your mom. I’ll love you more than anyone else your whole life. Don’t ever forget that.”
Helene cried hard with joy over the gift heaven had given her and with grief over her beloved. Where was Derek? What if something had happened to him?
The fragile, vulnerable bundle on her chest grabbed her finger. In response, a bolt of superhuman strength shot through Helene.
She had never felt so powerful.
Now she had one more reason to fight and get out of Moringen.
Two months had gone by since his appointment with Reinhard Heydrich. Derek was starting to think that the Nazi leader would
do nothing to release Helene, even though she was pregnant and the charges against her were light.
The meeting with Heydrich was one of the most difficult conversations Derek had ever had. The Nazi leader was a big man with
harsh features and a cool gaze. He seemed to X-ray Derek with his eyes. To Derek’s relief, Heydrich liked soldiers, despite
having been expelled from the army when he was younger over a matter of honor.
“I understand that your wife is pregnant. It’s unfortunate that she’s half-Jewish. You know our Führer’s opinion on the matter.”
Derek hung his head and dared not answer.
Heydrich’s eyes passed over the paperwork in front of him, and he continued, “Plus, apparently she carried out questionable projects in working-class neighborhoods and did not support the purging of anti-regime and Jewish librarians. Nor did she cooperate with the destruction of banned books . . .” Heydrich’s voice trailed off, and he glanced up at Derek.
“My father is an artist. To support the family, he started a music school. He lived in poverty most of his life, but the character of an artist can never be truly broken. I’ll try to do something for your wife, but only on two conditions. ”
“Yes, anything,” Derek swore.
“She must quit the library and have nothing to do with books any longer. What makes a race great isn’t found on the printed
page. What make us great are our genetics, our unity as a people, and our great guide. He knows what’s best. The other condition
is that she join the Party and concentrate on raising her children. I’m being exceptionally generous. She’s half-Jew. That’s
too much blood from that breed of rats, but mixed with yours, we hope your children can become true Aryans.”
“Thank you so much. This kindness speaks to your character.”
Heydrich frowned. “Don’t think I’m doing anything out of pity. What matters to me here is that a German family continue procreating
and expanding our great nation. A glorious future awaits us, a thousand-year Reich. Heil Hitler!”
Derek returned the salute with all his might, then walked carefully out of the office. His heart was beating out of rhythm,
his head ached, and he had the sensation that Helene’s life was still dangling by a thread. But at least that conversation
meant there might be hope for seeing her alive again.
Yet the weeks turned into months, just over two. Then one day a letter came. When the mailman left it on the doorkeeper’s
stand, Derek knew Sebastian must have tried to see what was inside, but the envelope was dark. All that time Derek had managed
to avoid telling him where Helene was. He trusted no one but their closest friends.
When he was alone and could open the envelope, Derek could not believe his eyes at first. The squared, typed letters announced
unemotionally the day and time he could pick up Helene.
“They’re going to release her!” he exclaimed, picking up Kaiser and hugging him tightly as he danced around the apartment.
The cat meowed in satisfaction, seeming to intuit Derek’s meaning.
Then Derek started to sob. He tried to imagine Helene’s face and recall every feature, but his memory had started to fade, and he doubted certain angles, certain tones of her voice.
He dried his eyes and called Lena. After telling her the good news, he called Helene’s parents. Maria was relieved and happy,
but not as jubilant as Derek expected.
“Is something going on?” Derek asked, puzzled.
“Well . . . I desperately want to see Helene. But, Derek, my mother just breathed her last.”
Derek was thunderstruck. They all knew this day would come sooner or later, but he could not believe the coincidence. He expressed
his condolences and made arrangements for when he would go by to see his in-laws.
Part of his joy had vanished. He believed that times would get better, but bearing such pain all at once was too much. It
was a heavy weight both on his shoulders and in the pit of his stomach. He could not understand why any of this was happening.
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and imagined an oasis inside himself. That was what faith was for him—a safe haven
that the desert of life could not encroach upon.