Chapter 71

“I'm going to be seeing this an awful lot in the time to come, aren't I?” James' voice was still thick with sleep.
“Oh, about every four hours for the next... four to six months, at least,” I estimated from where I sat in the high-backed armchair having Linnea at my breast again.
“You must've been up with her at least once during the night, too?” He asked as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed. “Sorry for sleeping through it.”
“Oh for gods sake. There's no point in me waking you up every time I'm going to breastfeed. Like you said, you're going to see it an awful lot.” I shook my head a little at James, who was now pulling on his jeans and t-shirt. “Want to take her?” I offered.
“Sure,” James said, smiling tenderly when he eyed his daughter who was lying in my lap on a pillow, having finished eating. He leaned down to take her, then froze in his tracks, obviously not sure about how to lift her up.
“First of all, take that and drape it over a shoulder,” I said, holding up a burp cloth. James swung it over a shoulder, then stared at me intently, awaiting his next order. “Slip your hands under her shoulders, and hook your thumbs under her arms. Yeah, just like that. When you lift her up, remember to support her head with your fingertips.” James shot me a worried look, needing moral support. “Go on, you can do it.” Gingerly, as if she was made of eggshells he lifted her up from my lap.
“Now what?!” He asked, holding her with his arms straight. She kicked her legs as she dangled from her father's big, slightly trembling hands. Trying my best not to laugh at James I took pity on him in stead and continued guiding him.
“Just... Hold her against you, against your chest and shoulder. That's it, good. Now, let her head just rest against your shoulder, and hold her by supporting her with an arm under her bum. See? That's it! Now you're holding her,” I smiled. James relaxed a little as he realised he felt had a solid grip on her.
“Seriously, have you never held a baby before?” I asked, unable to stop myself from smirking.
“Yes I have, but none of them were.. mine. And none of them were this.. new. I just.. panicked,” he mumbled, and a blush flashed across his face. “God, she weighs... nothing.” He ran his free hand over the back of her head, then up and down her back, caressing her gently while he leaned his cheek against her forehead. In gratitude Linnea let out a loud burp worthy of a sailor.
“Oi! Who taught you that sort of behaviour, missy? You certainly didn't learn it from me! You must've picked it up from your mother!” James grumbled, sounding thoroughly affronted with his daughter. I broke out into a hearty laugh, happy to see James returning to a little of his old self.
“Well, at least I taught her how to do it properly,” I sniffed proudly. James walked slowly back and forth across the floor, holding Linnea close and rocking her gently. I watched them in silence for a while, another wave of emotions hitting me at the sight of them. The silence was broken by an ominous, low rumbling within the depths of Linneas nappy. “Uh-oh. Sounds like daddy is in for a nappy-change as well this morning!” James froze in his tracks, his eyes widening with horror.
“...What?” He squeaked weakly.
“Yep. Whoever holds the baby when she makes that sound, has to do the diaper change.”
“I was never informed of this rule,” he scowled suspiciously.
“I made it up just now. But that doesn't make it any less valid!” I nodded gravely, then got up from my chair and lead the way into the bathroom. Gently, still nervous that he'd break her in some way, he supported Linnea's head and bum as he lowered her down onto the changing mat. Then he considered her, looking at her as if she was a complex engineering riddle he had to solve. Taking pity on him once again I nudged him out of the way. “Want to just watch me do it, first?”
“... Yes, please,” he mumbled, a little ashamed.
“All right. But the next one is definitely yours,” I smirked. Checking that I had a fresh diaper and baby wipes at the ready I popped open the buttons on her onesie and pulled out of the way, then undid the diaper. James looked a mixture of grossed out and worried at the sight of the contents of the nappy. “Don't worry, its supposed to look like that, her digestive system is just starting up.” With a trained hand I quickly wiped her clean with a few baby wipes, stuffed them into the dirty nappy and rolled it up, tossing it in the bin. This was a part I was already good at, having changed probably thousands of nappies as part of my job at the neonatal ward, and those babies were so much smaller than her. Linnea kicked her legs madly, making odd cooing sounds. “Aw, does that feel nice, huh? Being liberated from the confines of the nappy? Airing your bum out?” I giggled, watching as her legs went like drumsticks. “This is all very cute and everything, but it'll just end with you peeing on me.” I unfolded the new nappy and handed it to James. “I did the icky bit. Your turn.” With a sceptical, helpless expression he accepted the nappy and we swapped places. “Hold her legs by the ankles with one hand, and lift her legs up enough to lift her bum up, then slide the nappy under her.” James shot me another worried look. “Her legs wont fall off, love, I promise!” He did as he was told, breathing a sigh of relief when he had the nappy in place. Clumsily he folded it over and fastened it around her waist, and she protested a little at having the nappy back on. James kept his calm and pulled the onesie back down, then closed the snap fasteners. “You have officially finished your first nappy change! And your daughter is still alive!” I cheered. James looked a little hurt. “I'm sorry for making fun of you, but you're being... adorably ridiculous. She isn't as frail as you think she is!” In my job I had seen hundreds of parents react in the same way James was now; so overwhelmed over how small and frail she seemed, and so petrified of doing anything wrong that he hardly dared touch her. Everything about this was new to him, he wasn't used to handling a newborn and had a steep learning-curve ahead of him. Even I, who was used to handling newborns as a part of my job, handled my daughter a lot more cautiously and with a lighter touch than was necessary. “Before you pick her up, put these on,” I said, handing James a tiny pair of jogging bottoms with feet. His shoulders sagged a little as he realised he yet another nerve-wracking challenge to go through. Linnea didn't make it easy on him as she was still kicking her tiny little pink legs, but after a few failed attempts he managed to get one leg in each pant-leg and pulled it up. When he was finished he straightened up and looked at me with a manic sort of pride in his face. I patted his back and smiled encouragingly at him, enjoying seeing him so proud and excited. He slipped his hands under her back and neck again, lifting her gently up off the changing table and held her close to his chest, kissing the top of her head. I trailed after him as we walked back into our room. “The doctor is going to have a look at her later. If everything is fine we might get to go home today!” I smiled as I sat down on the bed.
“Go home? Today already? What do you mean “if everything is fine?” James' face instantly turned worried.
“Oh relax, James. All newborns go through it. It's this set of neurological exams, they just want to check that the baby has all its reflexes and things. And they probably want to weigh her, listen to her heart and breathing... They do this with all babies. But Linnea was born a little early, too.”
“Do you really think they'll let us go home already today?”
“I don't know... They might not want to because she was a bit premature, but... I was the one who asked if we could,” I admitted. At this James stopped in his tracks. Up until now he'd been slowly pacing the floor, rocking Linnea who was slowly nodding off to sleep. Watching him it was as if he had never done anything else in his entire life but rock his daughter to sleep.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I... You know how I hate hospitals.” I smirked at what by now had become a running joke between us. “I just get restless here, I want to go home with our baby, sleep in my own bed... I feel good and healthy, the breastfeeding is going good, Linnea is healthy and happy, so... I can't think of a reason why they should keep us here.” Later that day we got called in to see the doctor. Looking at James I was half expecting him to leap out of his chair at any minute and wrestle his baby daughter out from the doctor's grasp. It was apparent that James thought the he was manhandling her in an extremely rough way when indeed all he was doing was check her mental status, motor functions and reflexes. Having completed his examination the doctor admitted that although she was born a little early and was a small one, he saw no reason for us to remain in the hospital as long as I agreed to bring her to a check up in a week or so. I nodded compliantly, eager to accept any terms the doctor set that enabled me to go home. Half an hour later we had finished packing and I placed Linnea in her car seat for the first time, strapping her in and placing a blanket over her. James shouldered our bags while I carried the car seat through the hospital and down into the underground parking house. Secretly I was a little grateful for the private parking, it gave us less of a chance of being seen by anyone, especially any photographers or press. There was a moment of mutual embarrassment and feeling of ineptitude when we stared at the car seat, then at the base of the car seat in the back of the panda.
“Any idea?” I asked, looking sideways at James.
“None. This was one of the reasons it took me ages to get back to the hospital in the first place – I had to figure out how install that thing properly!” He said defensively, pointing at the base.
“Did you bring the instructions?”
“Mno, but I think there's some on the.. thing...” he mumbled, diving into the back of the car to examine the base, on the hunt for some clarifying illustrations, which he eventually found. “Absolutely everything feels unfamiliar and like a huge challenge nowadays,” James observed, having finally managed to place the car seat correctly.
“I know, sweetie. It feels like that for me, too,” I admitted, taking a step closer and slipping my arms inside his jacket, wrapping them around his waist. “I guess our lives is going to be filled with a lot of firsts from now on. And it'll probably be a long time until we feel like we have any idea what we're doing, but... I'm sure we'll manage to get the car-seat into the car in under 20 minutes eventually,” I said with a comforting smile, and James chortled. “Kiss?” I requested sweetly. James was more than happy to oblige. Tenderly he cupped my face in his hands, pulled me close and took my lips in a lingering, loving kiss. It felt comforting and calming. It reminded me that even though we didn't quite recognise our lives right now and everything felt upside down, we still had this. We still had each other, our closeness and companionship and love for each other, and that hadn't changed.

“I'm never doing that again!” James announced as he climbed out of the car, having pulled up in our own driveway.
“Doing what?” I frowned, climbing out of the backseat where I had kept an eye on Linnea, who had snoozed through her entire first car-ride.
“Driving a car while my daughter is in it! It's too fucking scary!” He complained, sounding a little hysterical. He looked pale and incredibly wound up, like he had just survived a bombing raid.
“Oh, so you're going to carry her everywhere for the rest of your life? That'll be interesting,” I snorted. “The Fiat is pretty small, maybe you should just buy a tank? She'd be safe in that?”
“Don't mock me, woman,” James grumbled, but the corners of his mouth twitched anyway. “But yeah, we might need a bigger car.” Entering my own house, carrying the car-seat, I breathed a sigh of relief. Bringing Linnea home was equal parts exciting and terrifying, just as everything concerning her seemed to be. Setting the seat down on the table I sat down in the sofa and gently unbuckled her, then took off the purple hat she was wearing. Unable to leave her be I lifted her out from her seat and cradled her in my arms, resting back against the sofa. She squirmed and stretched a little at being disturbed, then fell asleep again.
“You know where we are, baby? We're home! Yeah, this is our house. Welcome home, pumpkin,” I cooed in a whisper, running my hand over her hair. Before long Linnea woke up, letting me know she was hungry. “James? Could you go get the nursing pillow in her room?” James was in the kitchen, busying himself making tea by the sounds of it.
“The what?”
“The... The weird-looking pillow-thing! Its in the chair!” When James returned I accepted the pillow and placed it in my lap, letting the now screaming baby rest against it while I undid my nursing bra.
“What's wrong?” James asked over the racket, looking desperately unhappy at the sound of her wailing. It was the first time he had heard her scream properly.
“She's just hungry,” I waved, and a few seconds later Linnea proved me right by going quiet the instant she was offered a breast. “See? Yeah, you're a bit silly, aren't you? Getting that hysterical is completely unnecessary. Besides, you're scaring your father,” I added with a teasing smirk.
“All that just because she was hungry?” He asked in quiet amazement, sitting down next to me on the sofa.
“Yeah... Apparently, their sense of hunger is very intense, I read that somewhere. And, this is the only way she can communicate what she wants right now.”
“So that is what that pillow is for. I thought it was a .. neck.. thing...” James mumbled, almost sounding embarrassed. “I thought I was a bit prepared for this, I read all the books and things, but... I feel like I don't know anything,” he sighed unhappily.
“I don't think any amount of reading in books will get you prepared for something like this,” I said with a shrug. James wrapped his arm around my shoulders, gently so he wouldn't disturb Linnea.
“I'm incredibly impressed with you, though, Emily. You're being... very good at all of this. And I'm glad at least one of us is.” He kissed the top of my head.
“James, I work with tiny babies so I'm used to handling them. And I helped out a bit when my nieces and nephews were born, I picked up a thing or two. The breastfeeding part was new to me, but that is just.. instinct, I guess. Even so, this all still feels very.. new and odd to me, probably just as much as it does to you. But I like it,” I smiled.
“I like it too,” James said, returning the smile. When Linnea had finished eating I handed her over to James again, who was slightly less panicked when taking his daughter into his arms this time. I announced that I was going to take a bath, then gave them each a kiss on the forehead and headed for the bathroom. I unpacked a little and had a long bath, feeling the positive effects it had on my body which still felt the after-effects of birth. While I dried myself off and got dressed I kept listening for any sound that could signal that Linnea was awake, but all was quiet. Returning to the living-room I found James lying on the sofa, a pillow under his head, Linnea resting on his chest, draped in a blanket. They were both fast asleep, and looking at them I was torn between emotional tears and laughter. Both of them were sleeping with their mouths half-open in exactly the same way, making them look very much like father and daughter. I quickly snapped a photo of them with my phone, then took a few of them with the proper camera. Deciding it was best to leave them be I sat down in a chair with my phone, going through my messages. Most of them were from my family, apparently the rumour of Linnea's birth had spread to the extended family, aunts and uncles and cousins who had sent me greetings and well-wishings. Among the messages I found one from Hammond. 'Congratulations on the baby girl from both of us! In risk of sounding like a woman – can I see a picture? Hope you're all okay. Hugs, Hamster.' I thought about it for a moment, then I composed an e-mail and attached two photos, one that James had taken of me and Linnea along with the one I had just taken of James and her on the sofa. 'Hi, Hamster. We're all doing just fine, just got home in fact! Sending you a few photos. No question of paternity necessary when you look at that last one, huh? :P Keep them to yourself for a bit, yeah? No one else has seen her yet. I just.. thought I owed you as much, seeing as you were there for most of her birth. Hugs, Emily.'

The first few weeks of Linnea's life we hardly left the house, apart from going on little walks to try and get some fresh air, pushing a sleeping Linnea along in a pram. We had a steady stream of visitors, friends and family who were all dying to greet her and congratulate us, and James proudly showed off his daughter. James handled the shopping and ran a few errands, but he kept mostly at home. He wrote some articles now and then, but that was the only work he did – he had cleared his schedule as much as he could, and wouldn't go back to work until Top Gear started filming again. And even then he'd managed to avoid most of the long travels it normally involved. No matter how many times James had tried to reassure me that he truly wanted to have this baby, and that I hadn't forced him to agree to it, there had always been this tiny, niggling suspicion at the back of my mind, a tiny voice of doubt that I had never quite managed to shut up. My worst fear was that he would some day realise he'd made some awful mistake. His reaction right after Linnea was born did nothing to appease those fears, and I had worried that James would distance himself from her in some way. But as the days and weeks after Linnea's birth passed, it quickly dawned on me that all the fears I had carried with me had been a complete waste of time and energy. Linnea quickly grew just as attached to James as she did to me, maybe even more so. He had fallen into his role as a father with ease, and he was completely immersed and infatuated with her, soon being ust as adept as me when it came to changing nappies and taking care of her. He held her whenever he could and was always close, probably spending hundreds and hundreds of hours with her asleep on his chest, her little fingers intertwined into his long hair. She relied on me for food, but most times she would only fall asleep in my arms if James wasn't present. If he was anywhere nearby she wouldn't settle until she was in his arms or lying against his chest. As she grew and started to smile and imitate faces, James became even more enraptured with her, teaching her how to stick out her tongue and being the first one to get her to giggle. It was as if they had their own little world together, a special understanding and bond between then that I couldn't quite be a part of, and that I sometimes felt envious of. Linnea slept well most nights, but even so the breastfeeding felt constant, and the fact that I was never getting more than four hours of continual sleep was taking its toll on me. One night, absolutely nothing seemed to work to calm her down. Feeding, nappy change, rocking her, putting her down, everything just seemed to make her more frustrated. Feeling like a miserable failure I paced her nursery, holding a wailing Linnea. Eventually James shuffled in with a t-shirt on and his hair on end.
“Want me to take over?” He offered kindly.
“Yes, please...” I begged, handing the screaming infant over to her daddy. Typically, she quieted down almost immediately.
“Hey, hey, hey, what's all this kerfuffle about, huh?” James talked to his daughter in that soft, tender voice that was reserved especially for her. “Are you trying to drive your mother up the wall, hm? Because I think you're succeeding, you little bugger.” Looking over his shoulder he smiled at me. “Go on, go to bed. We'll try to keep it down. Won't we?” He admonished mildly, talking to Linnea again. I smiled gratefully and shuffled to our bedroom, falling asleep before my head hit the pillow. I woke up with a start not twenty minutes later, cursing myself for not sleeping now that I had the chance. Rolling over in bed I stared at the dark ceiling, listening to the silence in the house. Then I realised the house wasn't completely quiet. In the distance I heard a faint sound of a piano playing. Intrigued I crawled out of bed and headed in the direction of the library. The door was closed, and opening it gently I peered inside. James was sitting by his piano playing something I didn't recognise, but it was calm and melodic. Linnea was sitting in her baby rocking chair perched on top of the grand piano, studying her father while pulling at one of her socks that she'd managed to get a hold of. James noticed the door opening in the corner of his eye.
“I'm sorry, were we playing music too loud?” He asked, still playing.
“No, no, I just... woke up,” I said, entering the room and approaching the piano.
“Someone just isn't tired,” James explained, nodding discreetly in the direction of Linnea as if she wasn't supposed to know we were talking about her. “She's a bit of a night owl, I suspect. Like her mum, maybe? Anyway, this seems to keep her calm.”
“Yeah, your piano playing always had a sedating effect on me, too,” I smirked, wrapping my arms around his neck from behind.
“Ha. ha. Unfunny woman.”
“Sorry,” I apologised and kissed his cheek. “Music could always calm me down when I felt bad, maybe she's the same way. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, I'm going back to bed, I just wanted to check on you.” I gave him another kiss on the cheek and left the room, closing the door behind me.

Notes:

This is going to be the last chapter for this part of the fic. I AM going to continue it, but going to do a bit of a time-leap into the future :)

Chapter 70

 I slept soundly, my body and mind tired and battered. Even so I woke at the slightest little wince from the bundle lying against me. When I opened my eyes it was light out, and it was nearly 8am. Looking over at James he was sleeping heavily, breathing slowly with his mouth slightly open. “Good morning, pumpkin...” I whispered, my voice barely audible so I wouldn't wake James, I wanted to let him sleep. “We must've been pretty knackered, both you and me, huh? We've slept for ages! Maybe you're hungry, huh?” She wasn't crying, not yet, but she was complaining in small little, squeaky winces. Feeling stiff and sore I climbed clumsily out of bed, carried my duvet over to a high-backed armchair in a corner, then went to pick up my baby girl. Sitting down in the chair I draped the duvet over my bare legs so I wouldn't get could, and placed the baby over it in my lap, using the duvet as a nursing pillow as well. She fumbled with the proffered nipple for a little, but took a deep, heavy breath of content when she finally caught it properly. There was more milk this time, and she did a better job of getting to it. As I stared down at the baby at my breast I was struck with amazement again. As strange as this sensation felt, it also felt completely natural, it was just the way it was supposed to be. I had tried to picture myself doing this more times than I could count, and I had never been able to. No matter how hard I had tried, I had never been able to imagine what it would be like to hold a baby that was mine. It reminded me of when I had taken care of baby Emily, but with so much more feelings evolved, emotions so strong and huge I barely dared to feel them. Looking at her I felt a sense of... ownership, there was no other word for it, she was mine. But I also felt an overwhelming pride and pure, unconditional love. But all that pride and love brought with it responsibility, and all the trepidation and worry that came with that. This little human would depend upon me and James for absolutely everything, food, clothes, comfort and support, guidance and help. The way we brought her up would shape her as a person, we would be partly responsible for who she grew up to be. The thought terrified me. But as soon as I looked down at the child in my arms, the fear just faded away. She had stopped suckling, and now just lay there in my arms, her hands intertwined, looking up at me. We sat like that for a while, considering each other.

“Okay, munchkin... Maybe we should try ourselves at nappy-changing, huh?” There was a fully equipped changing table in the bathroom. Gingerly, as if she was made of thin glass, I laid her on the changing mat and opened the buttons on her onesie, pulling it up a little. I was amazed at how tiny she was, her little legs and tiny feet, and still I couldn't believe she had fit inside me. She protested a little as the old nappy disappeared, probably feeling cold, but quickly quieted down again when the new one was on and she was wrapped in a blanket again. Returning to the room James was still asleep. I crawled back into bed, holding her close to me. Unblinkingly, falling madly in love with her, I stared at her as she began blinking slowly, quickly falling asleep next to me. I allowed myself to close my eyes too, thinking I better get some sleep while I still could.

A few hours later I was gently roused by James. He was sitting on my side of the bed, fully clothed.

“Hm? Hi...” I croaked.

“Don't tell me you two have slept all this time?” He asked.

“No no, we were up for an hour around 8, nappy change, feeding...” I said, rubbing my face tiredly.

“Aw, I'm sorry, I slept through everything,” he said with a sad shrug.

“Don't be,” I said, rubbing his arm heavily.

“Listen, I'm going to pop home quickly, okay? I have nothing with me, my suitcase is still in France. I need to pick up some clothes, get the car, put in the baby seat, all of that,” James explained.

“Okay, yeah, sounds like a good plan...” I said, still tired and foggy from sleep.

“Colin is on his way, he'll will be here soon to pick me up and drive me back home. Is there anything you want me to bring from home? Something you forgot?”

“Mm no, not that I can think of right now... I'll text you if I think of something.”

“You two will be all right on your own for a while, yeah?”

“Of course we will,” I reassured him with a little smile. James looked over at the baby for a moment, then he gave me a quick kiss.

“See you in a few hours then. Go back to sleep.” I heard James walk across the floor and exit the room quietly. Going back to sleep was tempting, but I guessed the baby would be hungry before long, and there was no point in it. Lying on my side I gazed at the bundle, smiling a little to myself at how peaceful she looked. James was acting strange, he had been ever since she was born. He tried to hide it, and he probably even thought he was being successful, but he was far from it. My guess was that he had asked Colin to drive him back to the house not only so he could sort out some practicalities, but so he could get some fresh air and get some time to himself, get some time to think. As prepared as James thought he had been for this coming baby, actually seeing her had shocked him to core. Precisely what it was that had gotten to him I didn't know, but something was going on. Maybe it was just that he was a dad now, that she was actually here. He had known we were having a child, he had seen it on the ultrasound, he'd felt her kicks and punches, but now I suspected he'd maybe never quite managed to get his head around it after all. She had lived inside me, maybe that had made it easier for me to understand it and prepare for it. I lay motionless for a long time, staring absent-mindedly at my sleeping baby as I let my thoughts meander freely. The baby began waking up, stretching her little arms and legs, making strange faces and odd little squeaks. I giggled as I watched, fascinated by this strange little creature coming to life next to me. Before long she started crying, and I pulled her close and onto my arm, letting her eat for as long as she wanted to. There was a gentle knock on my door and in came Beatrice, my obstetrician.

“Hello...” she said quietly, walking quietly across the floor not to disturb the baby who busy eating.

“Bea! Hello!” I said, a little louder. “I would greet you properly, but I'm a big caught up here,” I explained.

“Oh I know, don't worry about it,” she said. We spoke in hushed whispers. Beatrice sat down on the other side of the bed, studying the child. “I heard through the grapevine that she was born last night. I just couldn't resist coming up here and say hello, hope that's all right...”

“Yes, yes, of course it is,” I smiled. I had really liked Beatrice, she had been a great support for me during my pregnancy, I trusted her and that she knew what she was doing. Eventually the baby let go of my breast, evidently full.

“Can I..?” Bea asked timidly, and I nodded as I closed my hospital gown. Bea pulled the baby over the mattress on the blanket she was lying on, then wrapped it around her before lifting her up and into her arms. Awkwardly I sat up in bed and pulled the duvet over me. Bea had held hundreds of babies, and she cooed and crooned to her as she paced the room holding the baby against her shoulder, rubbing her back in an effort to get a burp out. I crawled out of bed and found a cloth that I draped over Bea's shoulder.

“In case she.. threw up,” I explained, then crawled back under the duvet.

“Oh, pff, I can handle a little spit-up,” she scoffed. “So, this little miss decided to come out early, huh?”

“Yeah, due date as May 14^th.. She was born April 22^nd.”

“Three weeks and one day early, then. That's why you're so little, huh? Oh, and the fact that your mother is a pygmy,” Bea giggled at the baby. “Born last night, wasn't she?”

“Yeah, 2:47am I think it was.”

“And you were in labour for how long?”

“Oh, it started about... 6.30pm I guess.”

“Eight hours... You got off lightly,” she teased. “

“Tell that to my vagina,” I grumbled. “It'll never be the same again.”

“You will be amazed at how stretchy and flexible that stuff is, you'll be good to go again in a couple of months,” Bea waved carelessly. “Speaking of, where's your other half?” Bea asked, sitting down in the high-backed armchair.

“He's taken off,” I said sarcastically. Her mouth fell a little open and her eyes widened with shock. “No no, not for real,” I hurried to add. “He's just gone home for a bit, picking up some clothes and his car. When he came here last night he came straight from France, he was there working.”

“Ooooh, right,” Beatrice said, seeming relieved.

“That being said, I suspect he really needed to get out of here for a bit and air out his brain, he's pretty spooked.”

“Oh, he'll come around. He is far from the first fresh daddy to have a panic-attack,” she waved carelessly.

“Yeah, I know,” I agreed, not really worried either. “If he isn't back in the next six hours, I might be a bit concerned though...”

“Have you come up with a name yet?” Beatrice asked after a long pause in which she had gazed smilingly at the sleeping baby in her arms.

“Er... no.”

“Well, have you at least talked about any possibilities?” She asked, sounding a little resigned.

“Well... Actually, we started talking about it before she was born, but then we realised it was just stupid to argue about it before we even knew if it was a boy or a girl because that meant we'd have to have two arguments in stead of just the one. So we decided to just.. not discuss it until we at least knew if we should argue about boys' names or girls' names.”

“Ever the practical people, you two,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. While Beatrice was there she was sure to get me some lunch, forcing me to eat, reminding me that it was equally important to drink and eat enough now that I was breastfeeding.

After Beatrice had left I remembered my promise to Richard and picked up my phone to quickly sent him a text, telling him all the things he had wanted to know and thanking him again for having been there for me until James had arrived. Then I realised that my father and siblings would probably be interested in hearing the news as well, so I quickly typed in another text and sent it. Putting the phone down I pulled the wrapped up bundle close to me again and we had a little nap together. I must have fallen into a deep sleep, because I didn't hear the baby stir and complain, she was screaming her lungs out before I woke up properly. Feeling guilty for not having awoken earlier I scrambled out of bed, hating the sound of my child screaming this way, wanting to do to everything and anything I could to make it stop, and as soon as possible. Not because it annoyed me, but because the sound of my child in despair was enough to tear my heart apart. Even though my reasonable side knew that she was probably 'just' hungry. My heart thumped in my chest long after the baby had settled down. Was I going to become this stressed out ever time she screamed a little? I let her eat as much as she wanted too, then carried her into the bathroom to change her nappy for the second time in my entire life. How long would it take before I lost count? Tomorrow? A few days? Finished in the bathroom I wrapped her up again and returned to the high-backed armchair, sitting down. She was awake for a while, squeaking and yawning and making odd little faces before eventually falling asleep. I don't know how long I sat there, staring at her, but I only managed to tear my eyes away from her when the door opened. James came backwards through it, carrying a baby car seat in one hand and an overnight bag in the other. I breathed a sigh of relief, first now realising that I had actually been truly worried that he was having a proper panic attack and wouldn't come back.

“Hello, you two,” he said a little breathlessly, setting the car seat down on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, that took forever!” He apologised. Taking off his jacket he sank down in a chair, eyeing me curiously.

'”How have you two been?”

“We're doing all right,” I smiled. “We've had a nap, we had some food, changed some nappies... Oh, and we had a visitor! Beatrice came by! The obstetrician, remember?” I reminded him when I saw his confused face.

“Oh yeah, right, I remember.”

“She says congratulations.”

“That was nice of her. Listen, I'm sorry I was gone for so long, I just... Colin wouldn't stop jabbering, and when he finally left I had a shower, then the traffic was mad trying to get back here...” James jabbered, looking sincerely sorry about having been gone so long.

“James, honey, its all right...” I said tenderly. “We missed you though.”

“I missed you too,” he smiled back.

“Want to hold her?” I asked, thinking it was about bloody time he did.

“Oh no, no, she's sleeping, you don't have to disturb her...” He mumbled, shaking his head and raising both hands in an averting gesture. Actual panic and fear was visible in his eyes. With an annoyed huff I got up from my chair, cradling the baby in my arms.

“Get up,” I barked, having had enough.

“What?” James said weakly, frowning slightly.

“Get. Up.”

“But...”
“James, I gave birth less than 24 hours ago, you do not want to argue with me,” I growled warningly. Too intimidated to do anything else, he got out of the chair. “Shoes off.” Clearly having no idea what he was doing it, he kicked his shoes off. “Now t-shirt. Off.”

“...What?”
“James!” I said firmly, my voice making it clear that I was not going to argue with him. Hesitantly he took his t-shirt off, looking a little awkward and insecure as he dropped it onto the chair he had been sitting on. “Good. Now lie down,” I commanded. Still frowning, James laid down on his back one side of the double bed, still looking at me with a confused, almost fearful frown. Rounding the bed I unwrapped the bundle from her blanket and turned her over on her stomach.

“No no no, Emily, wait, no...” James jabbered feebly as I gently lowered her onto James' torso, placing her head roughly where his heart would be. His entire body tensed up and he drew his shoulders up to his ears, frozen with fear. He stared at her unblinkingly, as if I had just placed an extremely poisonous and rather cross scorpion on his chest.

“Breathe,” I admonished when he started going oddly pale. He breathed, but didn't relax a muscle. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “James... This is your baby girl, your daughter. Our daughter. She's here now and its too late to change your mind about having her, so you better get used to her being around.” James looked up at me quickly, a mixture of shame and apology in his eyes, as if he was a schoolboy being scolded. Then he looked down at the newborn baby lying on his chest. She squirmed and squeaked, complaining feebly about having been removed from the warmth of her blanket and my arms. Gently I draped the blanket over her and James. There was a long silence in which James stared at her.

“She's so... tiny.. and frail.. and... vulnerable,” he said quietly.

“Of course she is. What did you expect, that I would give birth to a first grader?”

“What if I.. do something wrong...” He mumbled.

“Oh, James..,” I sighed, completely understanding his concerns and fears, but struggling to figure out how to explain it to him in a way that he would understand. “James, Remember when you got your first model train? Or your first motorcycle, or your first car?”

“Er, yeah...?” James said under his breath, obviously not seeing the connection.

“Did you know everything about it when you got it? How to fix it, how it worked, what to do when it broke down?”

“Er.. no... but most of those came with an instruction manual. And if they didn't I could always take them to someone who knew what to do, like a... mechanic or... dad...,” James mumbled.

“But... I bet that before you did that, you often tried to fix it yourself, right?” I challenged.

“Yeah, all right... But I ruined a fair few motorbikes and cars that way.. And I really don't want to ruin her!” He said inconsolably.

“James, what I'm trying to say is... You were hands on and you learned as you went, and if you failed you asked someone who might knew what to do, Well, thankfully, this baby comes with all its main wiring and major parts in working order. All we have to do is... basic maintenance, you know? Refill it with fuel, recharge the batteries, clean the gaskets and other things that need cleaning... I'm not saying our baby is like a motorbike, but the idea is the same. It'll take hands on practice and learning. I don't have all the answers, and neither do you, and we'll just have to settle for that and learn as we go along.”

“But still, what if I do something... wrong...” he maintained.

“James, this is your daughter. You are always going to do what you think is best for her. And you are going to do anything in your power to make sure that nothing will ever harm her.” While James and I had been talking, the baby had gradually settled down and fallen asleep on her father's chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeats and the warmth and softness of his skin.

“She's gone back to sleep!” James said with wide eyes, his voice a mixture of pride and incredulity.

“See? She knows she's safe with her daddy,” I said quietly. James looked down at his sleeping baby girl and he took another deep breath, as if gathering up courage. He raised a trembling hand and ran a fingertip gently over the back of her balled up fist, feeling her soft skin for the first time. It was as if I could see the exact moment his paternity instinct kicked into gear. His body relaxed, his shoulders sank and his facial expression softened. Still trembling a little he ran his hand over her tiny arm and down her back, his palm almost covering all of it. With a feather-light touch he ran his fingertips over her soft hair. Suddenly everything about him seemed tender; his eyes, his face, his touch. Quietly I watched as James held and touched his daughter for the first time, getting to know her, welcoming her into this world and into our lives. I saw how his jaw tightened as he became emotional, and how he tried to blink away a few tears. After a long while he seemed to snap out of his momentary trance and look up at me, giving me a little smile. So many things shone through that smile; I could see his insecurity waning for his growing confidence and the hope that maybe he could do this after all, I could see his amazement and joy, his pride and his love. Suddenly I felt like I should leave them alone for a minute. I had after all held her ever since she was born, now it was James' turn to bond with her. “I was wondering if maybe I could go take a shower. Think you two will be all right on your own for a while?” I asked quietly.

“Hm? Yeah, I think we can manage, can't we..?” He said in a quiet, tender voice I had never heard in him before. “Are you going to be all right on your own, though?”

“Yeah, I'll be fine,” I smiled. “I have a shower chair in there. And an alarm button for the nurse if I need help.”

“Okay. I love you,” James smiled. Leaning over him I gave him a kiss.

“Love you. And, I love you,” I whispered against the baby's hair before straightening up. I dug out some clothes and my toiletry bag, then headed for the bathroom. I stayed in the shower for ages, the warm water relieving my sore and battered muscles. Getting dressed was also a challenge and turned out to take three times longer than as I was used to.

Nearly half an hour later I exited the bathroom. James was so preoccupied with his daughter he didn't even notice, and for a moment I stood there leaning against the door-frame, quietly watching them. My heart melted as I saw James softly brushing his nose and his lips over her hair and skin, taking in her smell, then kissing her forehead tenderly. A loud sniff from me made James look up, and when he noticed me crying a worried expression came over him.

“What's wrong?”

“No, no, nothing, nothing at all,” I said, smiling through my tears as I crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. “It's just... watching you together is so... special. It's amazing, seeing you with her,” I sniffed.

“Happy tears, then?” James smiled shyly, almost blushing a little. Everything about James seemed different now, all the tension and confusion in him gone. At the same time I realised I would never quite see James the same way again; I was seeing James as a father for the first time. Both mine and James' eyes fell to our daughter, sleeping soundly on James' chest.

“You know... Maybe its about time we had that naming-argument now? We can't just refer to her as 'she' for the rest of her life, can we?”

“Mm, I was thinking the same thing while you were in the shower....” He agreed, not taking his eyes off her.

“Yeah? And what have you been thinking?” I asked, curiosity rising within me.

“I was thinking... that maybe we could... perhaps name her after your mum?” The suggestion came out of the blue, causing a wave of emotions to rush through me and render me completely speechless. James didn't quite know what to make of my silence and began explaining his thoughts behind the idea. “Emily, I.. Know how much you miss your mum, and how much she meant to you. The fact that your mum isn't here to see your baby grow up, and the fact that she will never know her grandmother, I know how that breaks your heart. So I thought that if we named her after your mum... She'll carry a part of her with her and she'd always know who her grandmother was. I thought it is a good way of remembering and honouring your mum. It was just a thought...” James finished apologetically, completely misinterpreting my tears. At first I just shook my head at him, unable to say anything.

“No, no, we should do that, that is an amazing idea!” I squeaked, smiling and crying at the same time. The thought of naming her after my mum had strangely never even occurred to me, but now that James had suggested it, it seemed such an obvious idea, one that filled me with a confusing mixture of bitter-sweet emotions.

“So we're agreed, then?” James asked.

“Yeah,” I nodded eagerly, smiling.

“Wow. That was easy,” James mumbled, amazed at how quickly we had agreed on a name. With a sniff I wiped away my tears with the back of my hand, then placed my hand on the baby's back, caressing the back of her neck with a fingertip. “Linnea Brendan May...” James said quietly, saying the name of his daughter out loud for the first time.

“I like that name,” I said, a little surprised that he included my last name. “Little Linnea...” As if in response Linnea sighed deeply, then moved and stretched a little in her sleep. “Yeah, that's an adorable name, isn't it? Just as adorable as you are, huh?” I crooned. Straightening up I groaned a little at my stiff back and stomach muscles. I eyed the empty space next to James on the bed. “Room for me too?” James just nodded and I crawled into bed, inching right up to him. Resting my head on James' shoulder I studied my daughter lovingly. James' arm closed around my back, caressing me slowly.

“She's pretty cute, isn't she?” I said quietly.

“She's... perfect,” James breathed. “I can't believe how small she is. I mean, look at her little eyelashes. And her tiny fingers, and her perfect little nails...” James ran his hand tenderly down her arm and over her fist, then gently straightening out her fingers. I sighed heavily, feeling a happy, mellow tranquillity spreading throughout my body.

“This is perfect. This moment, right here,” I smiled, kissing James' shoulder through his shirt. He hummed as he pressed his lips against my forehead.

“Emily... I'm sorry about acting so strange earlier, I was...” James began, but his sentence ground to a halt as he didn't find the words.

“... having a discreet, but full-blown panic attack?” I suggested in a mild tone.

“Yes,” James admitted with a little laugh. “I was just so overwhelmed and.. terrified, frankly. Which is stupid, because... Look at her, how can a grown man be terrified of something that is this sickeningly cute?” He mused, gesturing to Linnea.

“I knew you'd come around. Even if it meant that I had to make you,” I snorted. “And you're not scared of her, you're scared of the responsibility of having to take care of her, of bringing her up. And so am I,” I admitted. “We'll just have to.. take it one day at a time, yeah?”

“Yeah, I guess,” James hummed absent-mindedly.

“You know, it never even occurred to me that we could name her after my mum. I never called her by her name anyway, I always just said “mum”, but still... Linnea is actually a Swedish name, because my grandmother came from Sweden, so she gave her daughter a Swedish name,” I explained.

“And what was your grandmothers name?” James asked curiously.

“Ulrika, actually. We just called her Ulla for short.” For a while all I could hear was the sound of James and Linnea breathing as another serene silence fell between us. “By the way, I sent Hammond a text telling him what he wanted to know, I thought he deserved to know. Oh, and I told him you wept like a hormonal woman.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” James snorted.

“I also sent the happy news to my dad, my brother and sister, I thought they would want to know. Have you told any in your family yet?”

“Um... no, I haven't even thought about that yet, to be honest,” James realised, frowning. “I'll do it later. Right now I just want to stay right here.” We laid there for a long time, enjoying each other's warmth. Eventually, and inevitably, Linnea began stirring, stretching and making faces, yawning widely to the amusement of both James and me. Then she began complaining, telling us as clearly as she was able to that she was getting hungry again. With difficulty I tore myself away from James and sat up in bed.

“Feeding time,” I told James, gently picking Linnea up from James' chest and cradling her in my arms.

“Can I.. have her back after?” James asked timidly, already looking unhappy without her.

“Of course you can,” I smiled. I carried Linnea over to the armchair and laid her to my breast, using a pillow for support underneath her. “Yeah, of course daddy can have you back after, right? You just have to come to me for a little bit for food. See, daddy has boobs too, but there's no food in them,” I crooned at Linnea, chortling as I spoke.

“Oi!” James protested, and I giggled. Feeling cold, or self-conscious about his boobs, James pulled a duvet over his bare upper-body. “Does that still feel really weird?” James asked after having observed us for a while.

“Hm, no, not really. Its a strange sensation, but it gradually becomes less... sensitive, I guess. I just know that my nipples are going to become really sore eventually, and I'm really not looking forward to that...” James screwed up his face in sympathy at the thought of extremely sore nipples. When feeding time was over I walked back and forth over the floor a few times, bouncing her a little and rubbing her back, trying to get her to burp. James was half-sitting in bed and tapping away on his phone, writing a message to his family I guessed. As soon as I approached the bed he quickly put the phone down and pushed the duvet out of the way, eager to have his daughter back. Linnea was awake and wide-eyed as I placed her on her father's chest again. She stared up at him in that innocent, somewhat baffled way only babies can look at you. James stared back, looking equally baffled.

“Hello, Linnea...” he said, tenderly caressing the inside of her hand with his thumb. “I'm your dad. Sorry it took me a while to say hello to you properly, I was just.. being a bit silly. I do that sometimes...” Crawling into bed I inched up to James once more, resting my head on his shoulder again.

“Yeah, he's a bit silly, but.. Daddy at least makes a good pillow, doesn't he?” I said, running my palm over her tiny head and down her back again.