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The soft wail broke through the silent bedroom at exactly 3:04am. The two large lumps in the king sized bed groaned as one rolled over and blindly reached for the monitor on the nightstand.
A soft curse, the click of a button, and the screen illuminated a soft blue glow. The live feed of an infant flailing her arms and kicking her legs inside of a sleep sack decorated with pink flowers reflected against her dad’s sleep creased face.
“It’s my turn.” Shane groaned, immediately feeling guilty for not actually wanting to get up to soothe his crying daughter. She had been doing so well with sleeping since the day she was born, then she turned three months old and stated something that Jackie Pike had called a “sleep regression”.
Shane and Ilya called it “hell”.
Before he could throw off the duvet, an arm came across Shane’s chest. “No, Мой лук, that is cry for Papa.” Ilya immediately began sluggishly crawling out of bed.
Shane scoffed but made no attempt to argue as he watched his husband from his place in bed. “Did she call your name?” He asked sarcastically.
Ilya ran his hands through his curls as he stretched, his joints and muscles protesting being upright. “She did not need too. Can hear it in her cry. She has cry for you, and cry for me. This is cry for me.”
Shane rolled over, burrowing his head into the pillows. “Have at it, Papa.” He was asleep again before the bedroom door clicked shut.
Ilya made a quick stop to peek in on the little boy with golden curls sleeping in the room beside his own. Finding him sleeping soundly, half on top of his blanket, mouth open and arms spread wide, blissfully ignorant to the sobbing infant in the room across the hall. Ilya smirked, feeling an odd sense of envy that his son could so easily sleep through his baby sister’s cries.
Nikolai had not come home until he was nearly one year old. They didn’t know it at the time, but that meant Shane and Ilya had missed out on several unpleasant developmental stages that children go through in the first months of life. But there had been other challenges with Nikolai; Russian orphanages are notorious for the neglect the children suffer. It was nearly a full year before the little boy trusted that if he cried out, someone would come to him. Until that point, Shane and Ilya set alarms throughout the night to check on their son to make sure he wasn’t lying awake, cold, wet or otherwise uncomfortable.
Now at four years old, Nikolai David Hollander-Rozanov suffered no hesitation in asking for exactly what he wanted or needed as soon as the mood struck.
Closing the door back, Ilya turned to the door directly across the hall.
Emi was a spitting image of Shane, with her soft black hair and light brown eyes. Ilya’s heart clenched every time he held his little girl, knowing she was a direct part of the love of his life. Deciding to try surrogacy for their second child was not a decision Shane and Ilya made lightly, but they decided if they found the right person, they would give it a shot. When Lucy was matched to them through their fertility clinic, everything just felt right.
Shane and Ilya were forever grateful to Lucy, and considered her, and her son, part of their family. She saw Emi regularly, and she and her son Jack were frequent attendees of Centaur’s games.
Wasting no more time, Ilya crossed the pink and white nursery to his daughter’s crib.
“Shhh, hush now, Papa is here.” Ilya scooped up the squirming infant and brought her close to his chest. She looked up at him through the dim light of the room with a deep frown, and her eyes full of tears. It shattered Ilya’s heart and he fought to keep from crying tears of his own.
After a quick trip to the changing table for a fresh diaper, Ilya settled into the plush rocking chair in the corner of the room with Emi in his arms. He began to hum the same Russian lullaby his own mother had sang to him when he was small, rocking back and forth as he stroked Emi’s back. She settled quickly, wiggling until she got comfortable against her Papa’s chest, her fist finding it’s way into her mouth. It didn’t take long for her long dark lashes to flutter closed, casting a shadow against her round cheeks in the light of her nightlight.
Ilya breathed a sigh of relief; the feeling of accomplishment in soothing his child comparable only to winning the cup.
Fatherhood had always been something in the back of Ilya’s mind. He had assumed one day he would meet a woman he liked, marry her and have a few kids. At one point he even considered settling down with Svetlana. But then Shane Hollander came into his life and everything shifted. Suddenly children weren’t just a natural part of life, but something he knew he wanted. He wanted to raise children with Shane, he wanted to make Shane a dad and fill the world with people as hardworking, kind, smart and determined as his husband.
They waited a few years after getting married before adopting Nikolai, then another few years before having Emi. They both still had many good years of hockey left, but they knew they would add a third child to the family when Emi was nearing her second birthday.
Ilya felt most at peace when caring for his children; especially in the small hours of the day when it wasn’t so glamorous. Everyone wanted to come and see the babies when it was a Saturday afternoon, but Wednesday mornings at three am is when Ilya shined.
Emi let out a soft sigh, her fist falling from her mouth and her body completely limp, signaling that she was not waking again any time soon. Ilya placed a firm kiss on the top of her head before he made the daunting three foot journey from the rocking chair to her crib. He treated laying her back down with all the caution it required and nearly jumped for joy when she simply wiggled into a comfortable position, instead of waking up and showing off her impressive lung capacity.
He slipped from the room like a stealth agent and hurried back to his own bed, not wanting to waste a single moment of sleep time before one of the children inevitably woke up needing them again.
Shane rolled over and watched as Ilya slipped back into bed.
“Was she hungry?” He asked, not even half awake.
Ilya wrapped his arms around his husband and pulled him close. “No. Just sad.”
Shane sighed and relaxed into his husband’s embrace. Ilya relaxed, unable to keep the smile from his face as he realized just how perfect his life had become.
As sleep began to take over, the squeak of the bedroom door opening had both men sitting upright in bed. They found the small silhouette of a little boy in the doorway, a plush hockey stick in his hand and tears in his eyes.
“Daddy? Papa?”
“What’s wrong, buddy?” Shane asked around a yawn.
“I threw up.”