currently procrastinating on the 2983749 things I need to do, so I decided to do a ālil photoshoot of Lucille and Rose bc...gay

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currently procrastinating on the 2983749 things I need to do, so I decided to do a ālil photoshoot of Lucille and Rose bc...gay

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The Baumann family---on both sides of the Atlantic---rang in the new decade with little fanfare as Francis, Catherine, and Martha began to adjust to their new life in London. Eloise and her friends were thrilled to have a place at the ballot box for the first time, but her joy was somewhat dampened by her brotherās absence. Regardless, Eloise and Rose shared a morning in town as they cast their votes for the first time. Perhaps, they hoped, their votes would make a difference.
Soon after Marthaās birth, Catherine returned to work. Although Francisā parents sent them money, it wasnāt enough to cover their daily expenses, and even Catherineās brother, Cecil, had began work in a tire shop after school. As a result, Francis and Martha were together for most of the day.
It took a little adjusting, given the fact that Francis was still practically a child himself at only twenty years old, but he doted on his little girl every second of the day.
Of course, Catherineās mother, Beatrice, cherished her new granddaughter, and taught Francis and Catherine the ins and outs of parenthood. Even when Catherine couldnāt be there for her daughter during her long days at work, she was always happy to come home knowing that her Martha was well cared-for.
More months passed, and arrangements were finally made for Francis to return home as the war finally drew to a close in the Fall of 1918. The war had finally ended, and Francis was deemed stable enough to travel back to Windenburg (luckily, by a doctor with far more respect for his nurses than the first doctor heād met). As excited as he was to return home, he couldnāt help but miss Catherine--and to wonder if she felt the same way.
His last day in Catherineās care, he spoke up.
āCatherine,ā he asked, āWould it be alright if I wrote to you? When I return Ā home, I mean?ā
Catherine paused for a moment, and Francisās heart sank. Had he been too forward?
āOf course,ā she said, smiling. āWhere else am I to hear such terrible jokes?ā
Francis laughed, and Catherine handed him a piece of paper.
āIt has my mailing address written on it.ā
Francis moved his fingers along the paper, surprised to find a series of dots in place of letters.
āItās in braille,ā Catherine explained. āSo when you learn braille, you can read it yourself. And there are braille typewriters, too,ā she finished sheepishly, āso you can write to me yourself.ā
Unbeknownst to Francis, his and Catherineās faces had now turned the same shade of bright red.
ā--Only if you want to, of course, you donāt have to--ā Catherine stuttered.
āOf course I will,ā Francis said. āWho else can I bribe to read to me in the middle of the night?ā
Ā Ā Catherine smiled, and planted a quick kiss on his forehead.
Ā Ā Francis paused for a moment, touching his hand to his forehead.
Ā Ā āIām sorry,ā Catherine said quickly. āWas that too much?ā
Ā Ā Francis shook his head, grinning. āNo.ā
Ā Ā They sat together for a moment--Francis in his wheelchair, and Catherine beside him--before they leaned in for another kiss.
Losing her career in nursing weighed on Catherine, and her heart dropped as she felt the pains of labor coming on nearly a month early. Her mother, a midwife, reassured her that everything would be fine, and joined her daughter in her apartment to prepare for the labor and calm her daughter down, but her fears (and Francisās) were only quieted after a long and difficult labor, and she could finally hold little Martha in her arms.
Even though she had been rather scared to give birth to her first child while Influenza still held the world in its grip, Francis was far worse. Heād constantly worried ever since he first learned of Catherineās pregnancy, and insisted on carrying anything even slightly heavier than a dinner plate.Ā
Heād also worried plenty about his role as a father. He knew from the whispered comments on the street and the occasional wails of passing children that his burns were far more visible than he would have liked, and he constantly thought about the many things he simply couldnāt do. His father had never been one for sports, but he had kicked a ball around every once in a while. Such a simple thing, and yet Francis feared it would be almost impossible. Even simply running and playing with his child felt like it would be an insurmountable task.Ā
But Catherine, guessing at her husbandās thoughts, gently placed baby Martha into Francisās arms, and he found himself sobbing without even knowing why.Ā
With the midwifeās permission, he ran his fingers gently along Marthaās face, trying to build a picture in his mind of what his daughter looked like. Even though he knew he would never truly see her face, and the thought saddened him, he felt as if he already knew her.Ā
āWe have a baby girl, my love,ā Francis mumbled in amazement in between sobs, trying to choke back further tears so he didnāt cry onto the baby. āWe have a baby girl.ā
Catherine bent down and kissed her daughterās forehead, and touched Francisās shoulder to gesture for him to do the same.Ā
āNo, I--ā he stuttered. āAre you sure I should? My face is a little rough, you know, and I donāt want to frighten her--ā
Catherine sighed loudly and planted a kiss on the scar tissue that plastered his cheek.Ā
Even without seeing her face, Francis knew when Catherine was feeling particularly stubborn (which was most of the time), and gingerly kissed Marthaās forehead, and she--much to his surprise--grabbed onto his nose.
āSee?ā Catherine said, ruffling his hair. āShe already likes you more than me.āĀ
Francis laughed, but it came out as more of a sob, and he placed his finger on his daughterās nose with another laugh.Ā
āI can do that too, you know,ā he said to the baby, grinning as he wiped the tears from his cheeks before the three of them settled into bed for the night.

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Francis scoffed and relaxed into Catherineās embrace, leaning his head against hers as he pulled the box from his pocket.
āThe saleswoman said it was beautiful,ā he said sheepishly. āI know itās not muchāor, well, at least it doesnāt feel like much, butāā
āNo, Francis, itās perfect,ā Catherine said, wiping tears from her eyes. āItās perfect.ā
āWell,ā Francis began. āItās not as if Iāll ever see the difference.ā
Catherine let out a snort and punched him in the arm once more before falling back into his embrace.Ā
āWeāre naming the baby Catherine the Second, by the way,ā Catherine mumbled into his chest. āEnough of that āFrancis the Fourteenthā nonsense, women deserve to name their children ridiculous things, too.ā
Francis laughed again and planted a kiss on her lips as she wrapped her arms around him.
āYou remind me of my sister,ā he joked. āI think youād like her.ā
One particularly hard day, Catherine shuffled wordlessly into her bedroom, laid her head on Francisās shoulder, and began to sob.Ā
āOh, love,ā Francis whispered, enveloping her in a hug. āDo you want to talk about it?ā
Catherine just cried harder, and Francis hugged her tighter, as if all the love he had for her could undo whatever terrible thing she had witnessed that day.Ā
āI think Iām pregnant,ā Catherine suddenly announced, managing to stifle her sobs as she hugged Francis tighter.
Francis, once again, felt like a fish out of water, the same way heād felt when heād first met her: a mixture of shock and awe, as if he was feeling every emotion all at once.
ā...Youāre pregnant?ā he repeated after her.Ā
āYes,ā she said, brushing tears from her eyes. āBut now I canāt work anymore because I canāt put the baby at risk, and we donāt have enough room or money or time for a baby and Iāll never be able to work as a nurse again because Iāll have had a child out of wedlock and--ā
Francis slid off the bed and joined her on the floor, hugging her tighter. āCatherine,ā he whispered. āItās alright, love. Itās alright. Everything will be fine, just--just sit down.ā
Catherine obliged, and buried her face in the shoulder of Francisās sweater as he wrapped his arm around her.
They sat in silence for a moment before Francis spoke up.Ā
āYouāre afraid for your reputation?ā he asked.Ā
āYes,ā Catherine sniffled. āI know itās vain, but--ā
āCatherine,ā Francis said quietly. āI have five sisters, I know how important your reputation can be.āĀ
Catherine let out a harsh laugh, and Francis tightened his grip on her shoulder, leaning his head against hers.Ā
āIf I donāt show up for work tomorrow, everyone will know, and Iāll never be able to work again. I canāt put the baby in danger, but we need the money, and--āĀ
ā--my mother sends money, I can ask her--ā
ā--I canāt take your familyās money, Francis--ā Catherine cried, her voice falling in defeat as Francis held her hand in his.Ā
āBut what if it was our money?ā Francis blurted out.Ā
āI--What do you mean?ā
āI mean,ā Francis stuttered, suddenly realizing what he was suggesting. āWhat if we married?ā
Francisās heart seemed to skip a beat. Catherine was silent for a moment. He couldnāt see her face, so he felt his heart drop as the conversation paused, the only sound being Catherineās shallow, panicked breathing.
What if it was too soon? What if heād said something wrong, and he just couldnāt see the panicked look on her face?
The box in his pocket seemed to turn to lead.
Much to Francisās surprise, Catherine began to laugh.Ā
āI was just about to ask you the same thing,ā Catherine said, wiping away tears.Ā
āIām sorry,ā Francis began again. āI know that Iām a burden, and Iāll be a terrible father and the nightmares will never stop, but we can get it annulled eventually, if you want.ā
Another pause, and Francis received a swift punch in the arm.
āFrancis Elliot Baumann,ā Catherine lectured, raising her voice as she stood. āDo you honestly think that I would propose to you if I thought you were a burden? Or will be a terrible father?ā
Francis bit his lip and clenched his jaw in embarrassment.Ā
āYou are not a burden, Francis Baumann. And if you think for one second that you are, I will make you do dishes for the next month.āĀ
Francis Baumann and Catherine Williams were married in the Summer of 1918 in a small courthouse ceremony, with only Catherineās parents and brothers present due to the Influenza outbreak. While Francisās parents couldnāt be present at the ceremony, Catherine and her mother arranged for a photographer so that Francisās family could at least see their sonās marriage, even from across the Atlantic.