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Four AM doesn't feel like a real time of day, Charlie thought, looking at the red numbers of the clock across the dark room. Yet here he was, awake again, experiencing that liminal time between incredibly late and far too early.
“What do you want from me?” he whispered in frustration.
Charlie was pretty sure he was about to lose his mind. The screaming and tears and frustration left him utterly exhausted. He had no idea what he was doing. How has he ever thought he could handle this?
But when he looked down at the tiny scrunched up face of his daughter, he knew that whatever it was, he had to fix it. They had tried a bottle, and soft pats, and shushing, and standing up and bouncing, and sitting on the ball and bouncing, and dancing. He'd changed her diaper twice, and sang the entirety of The Crane Wife by The Decemberists while swaying back and forth, but she continued to fuss.
Nick and Charlie had been parents for 10 weeks, and they had been some of the hardest and most rewarding weeks of their lives. Right now, Nick was tucked into the guest bed, having been on baby duty until two. She had gone to sleep easily the night before, only waking once during Nick's time for a fresh diaper and a snack.
Most nights, Violet was a very easy baby. But right now, Charlie was at a total loss for what to do. He also desperately needed to pee, but he couldn't just put down an upset baby, could he?
He looked at the soft dark hair on her head, the fine baby hairs showing a hint of curl. It looked like she had gotten Tori’s coloring so far, though it was too early to know if her eyes would stay that deep blue. Not that he could see them in the dim room, her eyes closed as she yelled at him. But Charlie's bladder couldn't take it anymore. He carefully lay her down on the floor and darted into the en suite. Behind him, there were a handful of cries and then… quiet? As he washed and dried his hand, he heard happy little coos.
He looked down at the spare towel she was laying on, wiggling her arms and legs, clearly intent on figuring out this whole rolling over concept. It was hard to believe that two months ago, she'd had essentially no control over her neck. Charlie rubbed an exhausted hand over his face.
“You know, you could work on these things during the day.”
Violet continued her wiggles, ignoring her father's commentary.
“I can tell that you're also Tori’s child. You just need to be a strong independent baby for a minute. But why is that minute at the worst time of night?”
A telltale wet trumpet sounded from the floor. Charlie sighed.
“Well I guess that's why.” He waited another minute for aftershocks, having learned the hard way not to change her instantly. People undersold how gross parenting could be. He scooped her up and carried her to the changing table they had stationed in the corner of their bedroom.
Even though he was exhausted and a little slap happy, Charlie marveled at the fact that he was here, with his and Nick's daughter, in their house. If you'd told him at his 15th birthday that the pair would still be together and parents on his 30th, he would not have believed you.
“Oh yeah. Happy birthday to me,” he murmured, picking up Violet and kissing the top of her head. “You are the best birthday present ever, did you know that?”
They had gotten the positive test on his birthday the year before. Tori had wrapped the results up, and in his card written “This is your present for the next 18 birthdays and Christmases” inside.
Calm and happy, Violet blinked slowly and unevenly, the sign that the overnight dance party was winding down. He swayed, singing softly and patting her back until he felt her tiny body relax and settle back into sleep. Once she began snoring against his chest, he risked lowering her into the cot and letting himself collapse into their large bed. Almost the instant he stopped fighting to stay awake, sleep overtook him.
When fussing woke him up once more, Charlie's eyes opened to sunlight in the room. The clock read 9:00.
“Good job! All of that fussing must have made you tired and you slept for almost five hours!”
As if his statement was a reminder that she hadn't eaten in that long, Violet moved from gentle fussing to full throttle wailing as Charlie dragged himself out of bed to get up and change her. Nick appeared, bottle in hand.
“Good morning, loves. I heard her start to grumble on the monitor, so I got her bottle ready,” he said.
“Just let me change her and I can feed her,” said Charlie.
“You go feed yourself. I've got this.”
“Are you sure? It's still my shift until 10.” Violet continued to wail as Charlie picked her up from the table.
Nick carefully took her from Charlie, though no longer needing the complex choreography of the first weeks, balancing baby and bottle on his way to the chair. “I've already eaten, and after I feed this hungry muffin, you can shower, and we can all go for a walk.”
Charlie kissed his husband, leaning over the baby. “I can't imagine doing this with anyone else.”
“Me either.”
Charlie went downstairs, and found toast and tea, and a birthday card and present waiting for him, with a note that said “Open Me.”
Tearing the paper off, he found inside a photograph from the hospital of him, Nick, and Violet. The frame was engraved “My New Favorite Day Ever”. Charlie's eyes brimmed with happy tears as he put it on the mantle next to their first snow day and their wedding photo. So many favorite days.