“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.
“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.'
“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.
“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 :)
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