Roman shifted, a terse scowl on his face.
“Emilia, I have to—”
“I didn’t ask you to come here to convince you not to fight,” I said, interrupting him, then I sucked in a deep breath. “I wanted to tell you in person that we cannot be together.”
His eyes widened, and for a minute I thought he was going to argue with me. But then he sighed deeply and said, “There have been many times in my life when I thought about giving up. I know the temptation of it. I know exactly how you are feeling. It seems easier to just accept your fate. But that is not you, and that is not how we regain our country.”
“It is going to take me time to recover from the things I have been through this year, and then...” I squeezed my eyes, unable to look at him while I told him my plans for the baby “...and then I’m going to have to adjust to being a sister to this baby, because I have asked Truda and Mateusz to raise it.”
Roman shifted forward to lean on the table between us. He spoke urgently as he whispered, “The best thing is to give this baby to a family far away from us. Otherwise, every time you see it, you’re going to be reminded of what happened to you! Bringing this child into your family will mean bringing those bastards into your family!” I stiffened my spine, but I didn’t argue. Instead, I simply watched as his frustration grew. He had no way of knowing that every harsh word he spoke was confirmation that I was making the right decision. “For us to be together, you would need me to accept your rapist’s child, and then you want me to sit back and let the Soviets have their way with Poland?”
“Roman, I wish we could be together,” I whispered sadly, shaking my head. “But I need peace now, and you will always seek upheaval. There is no middle ground between what you and I want for our lives. You have become a part of my family, and my parents love you as much as I do.” I straightened and met his gaze, hardening my voice as I added, “But, Roman, I am telling you now, if you wish to remain in our family, you are going to have to find a way to accept this baby, too.”
We fell into a tense silence. For long moments, the only sound was the noise Sister Renata made when she turned the pages of her book.
“I need to think about this,” he eventually said, dropping his voice. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away slowly, and Roman sighed impatiently. “You need to let me think about all of it.”
“Sometimes in life, there is compromise. Other times, there is none,” I whispered, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You and I both know that this is one of those times.”
I walked him to the door, Sister Walentyna once again hovering somewhere behind us, but there was no illicit contact for her to protest this time. Roman and I stood a foot apart, an ocean of hurt between us. His expression was desperate, but he made no move to touch me. He turned to walk away, but then he paused, and his voice was raw as he turned back to say, “I don’t know how to fix this, but there has to be a way.”
“You can’t fix this,” I said gently. I could see the tension in his body—his shoulders and arms were locked, as if he were ready to start a physical fight. I wasn’t scared of him—I’d never been scared of him, after that first day—but even his posture confirmed my decision. “Stay safe, Roman. Please, stay safe.”
Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t.
* * *
Truda was excited and she couldn’t hide it even if she tried. She knit beanies and little cardigans for the baby and walked all over the city collecting clothes and blankets for it. She told me that Mateusz had built a little crib and set it up in their bedroom.
“Unless...unless you think it should be in your room,” she added, uncertainly.
“Why would I have your baby in my room?” I asked, injecting just enough attitude that I felt like a teenager again, instead of the worn husk of a woman I’d become. But the end was in sight, and I knew that once the baby was born, I would begin rebuilding myself from the ground up. In the meantime, all I had to do was get through each day, hoping that every twinge I felt was the beginning of the labor that would open the next chapter of my life.
We celebrated a subdued Christmas at the convent—a Franciscan order of nuns, and me, Mateusz, Truda and Sara. Roman was missing, although my parents told me he had been invited and politely declined. He had moved out of my bedroom and found lodging somewhere else. Mateusz still saw him at their job, but if my father knew the details of what else Roman was up to, he didn’t share them with me.
I missed Roman, but I was accustomed to missing him. What was new was that I had to grieve the future I once thought we’d share. Sometimes I’d catch myself dreaming about a reunion, as if we hadn’t already had one.
Even so, I was proud of myself for making that hard decision. I had grown strong enough to know what was best for me and to seek it out.
Sara and Truda moved into the convent during the last weeks of the year to await the birth. Sister Teodora had been a midwife but was in her eighties now and hadn’t delivered a baby for more than a decade, so Sara was going to assist. The entire convent was on tenterhooks waiting for the delivery to start, but I was almost convinced the baby would never come. I reached the end of my countdown calendar on Christmas Day, and every day after that felt like a mockery. It hurt to sit, it hurt to stand, and sometimes when I walked I was convinced the baby was going to fall out. My irritability seemed to know no bounds. I was even cranky with the Sisters, who had been so hospitable to me for all of those months.
There was a special meal for New Year’s Eve, but I couldn’t bear to eat it, and I went to bed early but couldn’t sleep. It was a bitterly cold night—the world was blanketed in a thick carpet of snow, but I felt hot, even as I walked the corridors, pacing through my frustration.
“Come on, baby,” I muttered, rubbing my aching belly. “Get out of here. Your mama is dying to meet you.” Since I had begun thinking of the baby as Truda’s, my ambiguity toward it had disappeared. Her excitement was giving purpose to my pain, and in that purpose I found comfort.
As I turned at the end of the hallway outside of the convent cells, I was gripped by pain so intense I forgot to breathe. The tightening started in my back and worked its way all the way around my stomach, until I felt like I was being turned inside out. It didn’t last long, but it was markedly more intense than any of the twinges I had felt over the pregnancy. When I could breathe again, I resumed my pacing, only to be knocked weak against a wall by another wave of pain, just a few minutes later.
This time, I cried out, and a door along the hallway opened. A whole mass of nuns filed out to check on me, with Sara and Truda close behind. Sister Agnieszka Gracja clasped her hands in joy.
“Emilia.” She grinned, but then her gaze dropped to my feet, and she hurried toward me. “Let’s get you off that rug just in case your water breaks.”