Disclaimer: I own nothing. Enjoy.


Maria wearily climbed the steps to her and Georg's bedroom, wishing mightily that she didn't have go out with her husband tonight

Maria wearily climbed the steps to her and Georg's bedroom, wishing mightily that she didn't have go out with her husband tonight. Yes, Rosemary had been born over a month ago, but the infant was horribly exhausting, refusing to adapt to the four-hour schedule that had worked so well with Elias. It was beginning to work now, but slowly. What's more, the child had made it painfully clear last week that she absolutely would not tolerate cow's milk for her meals.

Rosemary had left her mother high and dry the day Maria had desperately resorted to some warm, fresh cow's milk from the family's new dairy cow that now accompanied Duke in the barn. Georg hadn't been too pleased with accumulating a cow last spring, but Maria had kept positive, sure that Beth would be a wonderful asset. As it turned out, in attempt to follow Dr. Hagan's orders to get more sleep and at the same time fill her child with milk that her sore breasts just didn't always possess no matter how hard the baby cried, Maria had found herself unendingly grateful for the cow.

Until Rosemary flat-out refused to drink Beth's milk, that is. At her wit's end, Maria had burst out into tears of frustration just as Georg had walked in the kitchen to fetch his lunch.

"Georg, she rendered me dry as dust an hour and a half ago and she wants more! I have nothing to give, and I do hurt so! She won't fall asleep, she won't settle down with me on the bed for a while, she just won't stop crying! And she won't drink Beth's milk!" Lack of food, sleep, and a reasonable amount of sanity did not help the young woman's post-pregnancy body in any way, shape, or form. She whimpered, "I'm almost tempted to lock this wailing offspring of mine in the cellar for three hours so I can get more than thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep!"

Rosemary hadn't been overly kind towards her father, either, seeing as he slept in the same bed with Maria, but the nice thing was that Georg could actually get some sleep once Maria dragged herself out of bed and took the baby downstairs into the kitchen for the remainder of the night, alternating between dozing, feeding her, humming low melodies in hopes of lulling her baby back to sleep, and slow-dancing around the room with Rosemary on her shoulder. The child had bright blue, inquisitive eyes that she kept open as much as she could bear, despite how young she was. Her hair was dark and soft for now, but Georg suspected it would lighten over time. Looking at his exasperated, worn down wife, Georg suddenly said, "Why don't we try just that?"

Maria's eyes widened incredulously. The look on her face suggested that she thought him to be insane. "Georg, I, I'm just exasperated, tired... I truly didn't mean that!"

Georg took his wife by the shoulders, ignoring his whimpering baby cradled in her arms. "Maria, really, I think we should try it—I didn't think of it, but it may be that she just does not like the heat. It's been so dreadfully warm ever since she was born. Also, I do think that total darkness and quiet may help her fall asleep and forget about food. Nothing down there can hurt her—she would be absolutely fine."

Maria bit her lip, putting Rosemary into Georg's arms. She supposed it might work, but as much as she wanted some time to rest, eat, and get the house in proper order, she also worried endlessly about her ninth child, always fretting that there may be something wrong with her. She'd never heard of a child that cried and ate as much as hers did. "I hate the thought of treating her like an animal, but at this point, I'm willing to try anything."

Maria grimaced as she pushed her bedroom door open and saw the mess of sheets and clothing that made up the bed. When was the last time the laundry had been done? At least Rosemary was finally settling into a normal routine, even if it had taken her a week to get to the point she was at now. And Georg was right; she did seem more comfortable and willing to settle now. It didn't mean that Maria's exhaustion went away over night, though. And she knew some long walks in the mountains were in order if she was ever going to resume the figure she'd had eleven months ago.

Not caring whether her door was open or not, Maria unbuttoned the back of her housedress and let it slide off her shoulders and hit the floor, cascading around her feet. She nimbly stepped out of it and went to stand in front of the full-body mirror that stood next to the armoire. Though Maria had never been vain, nearly six years of marriage to Georg had taught her that there was nothing sinful or wrong in examining the intricate creation of the human body for further admiration or improvement.

She noticed that her eyes still possessed traces of tiredness and her face was somewhat thin. Her hair desperately needed a trim, she noted, as she brushed her bangs impatiently from her eyes. Her collarbone was still strikingly obvious, and as her eyes travelled down her body, she saw that her legs were still lean, though not as much as they once were. Several weeks outdoors and riding Duke could remedy that. Her ankles were their normal size. Her eyes flitted back up to her chest.

Two full-term pregnancies and a miscarriage had definitely left their evidence, for her breasts had grown over the years, though she noted with some slight pride that they still were round, firm, and high-set, the object of many fondlings from her adoring husband. But, she decided, dropping weight definitely would do that area of her body some good, even if it was satisfactory as it was currently.

Her eyes stopped at her stomach, and she turned slowly, to view her body from the side. Though it was nearly gone by now, the stomach she'd possessed while expecting Rosemary was still visible in a perfectly small, rounding curve around her lower abdomen. She ran her hand over it, remembering the closeness with her child that she loved so well, even when it meant constant drumming on her ribcage and sleepless nights. She figured that if people didn't know that she'd just given birth, she could be mistaken for four months pregnant if she wore the correct dress. But, in this small town, everyone knew everyone else's business, so that wouldn't be an issue.

She smiled, then turned to the armoire and pulled out a light blue silk and chiffon dress that swept the floor. She did want to go out. Georg was taking her dancing in Baltimore for her birthday.

As the cool material of the dress slid over her body and Maria tied the sash behind her, fussing with the low neckline that was revealing, but not explicit, she laughed. Either the lights played tricks with her eyes, or her husband had sharp taste. There was no way on earth that the remnants of her pregnancy would be made known in this dress. Sweeping her short hair to the side, she carefully brushed it out, muttering with a happy grin, "Nothing beats motherhood."


Ende