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He woke early that morning. 3.47am.
He turned slightly, before realising moving too far would disturb the weight on his chest. So he stayed still, opting to run his fingers through her hair ever so gently.
She woke anyway, despite his best efforts to keep her asleep. She had become a light sleeper over time, and somewhat of an early riser, worn down by patters of little feet at times of the morning that she nevertheless thought should be illegal.
She sleepily opened one eye, then the other, then turned to look up at him, adjusting her body so her neck wasn’t overextended.
“Why are you awake?” She asked gently, running her fingertips across his chest.
He gave a tiny shrug, a half smile appearing on his face. She didn’t return it, her honey-brown eyes reading him in a way that used to frighten him, but became much more of a comfort overtime. I know you.
“Thoughts too loud?” She followed up with, softer this time.
The corner of his mouth twitched. Yes. “It doesn’t matter.” He whispered. “I’ll be fine. Go back to sleep, Luce.”
She twisted so that she was lying completely across his chest. “Humour me.”
He swallowed, taking a breath. “What if… what if I’m like him?” He looked away from her, staring at the ceiling instead, while dancing his fingertips across the smooth skin of her arm.
Lucy sighed. She knew exactly who he was talking about, without him having to spell it out. They’d had this conversation before, when she was pregnant the first time. She suspected that it was weighing on him more this time round because they’d found out yesterday that they were having a boy.
She brushed her fingers across the line of his jaw, gently tilting his head to look at her. He resisted at first, but then gave in. When he made eye contact with her, she saw that his blue eyes were filled with tears. “Oh baby,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath in.
“Tim, look at me.” He continued to avert her eyes, moving his head away. “Tim.”
He refocused on her, a tear dripping down his cheek. She wiped it away with her thumb.
“You are nothing like him. Do you hear me? Nothing.” Her breath caught on the last word. “And I know how hard that is for you to believe. I know. But those two little girls sleeping down the hall from us? They can’t even fathom what your childhood was like because they don’t know that people are capable of what your father did to you. They don’t understand that not everyone has an incredible dad, because all they’ve known is unconditional love from theirs. Their dad, who sits through all their princess tea parties and holds them when they cry, and who taught them to ride a bike, and who stayed home with them for the first year of each of their lives. Their dad, who, from the day that he found about them, vowed to protect them from every evil. Even before they were in this world. Even when it drove their mum crazy. But that’s beside the point.” She had tears dripping down her face now, but she left out a half laugh when he cracked a smile at that.
“They have a dad who cries every time they start a new grade at school because he doesn’t want to see them growing up. They have a dad who will read them 17 books before bed because he can’t say no to them. Those girls only understand physical touch to be safety. They don’t flinch when they hear loud noises, or shrink away when you go to pick them up. They lean into you. Fall asleep on you. Your heartbeat has soothed them since the day that each of them was born. They both developed an ‘I want dad’ cry when they were babies.” She took a breath and looked at him.
“What if this time is different?” He asked, his voice sounding impossibly small.
“Because we’re having a boy?” She replied He nodded.
“It will be different. Because you have a different relationship with each of your children. Because your children are different people. But the sex of this baby does not determine the type of father that you are going to be. You determine that. And you’ve proven to me every day since we found out I was pregnant for the first time that more than anything else in the world, you were meant to be a dad. Because you care. Because you pay attention to the small little things, and you have never looked happier than when our daughters are laughing at something that you’ve said, and you get to scoop them up and press kisses to the tops of their heads and spin them around. That’s not going to change just because we’re having a boy.” She paused, her face creased with worry, before her voice dropped in volume, softer now. “Do you believe me?”
He just nodded, almost imperceptibly to anyone except her. “Good.” She said, her eyes scanning his face. “I will keep reminding you as many times as is necessary.”
She brushed some of his tears away with the pad of her thumb, giving him a small smile. “I love you, Luce.” He whispered, cupping her face with his right hand. She just smiled, and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, where scars that had appeared the last time they had this conversation had healed over and faded with time.
“I love you too, Tim.”
Their daughters must have sensed that their dad was in need of a hug, because after a few minutes of Tim holding Lucy close to his chest, pressing kisses to her hair, little feet sounded down the hall, and their bedroom door swung open.
“Dada?” asked their 5 year-old, Zoe, her favourite teddy bear clutched in her hand. Behind her stood her 3-year-old sister, Daisy, clutching a matching bear, her thumb brushing her lip, a tell-tale sign that she had been, or was going to, chew on her nails, like Lucy did when she was anxious.
“Yeah, baby,” Tim replied, sitting up in bed, and helping Lucy sit up, adjusting her pregnancy pillow, and brushing a hand over her 20-week bump. She smiled softly at him, and then returned her attention to the girls in the doorway.
“Can’t sleep, sweetheart?” Tim asked gently. Zoe and Daisy both shook their heads no. He opened his arms and they both ran over to his side of the bed.
“Can we sweep wif you?” asked Daisy, her voice sleepy and cute as she rubbed her eyes.
“Of course you can, baby.” Lucy replied, brushing her hand over Daisy’s thin brown hair, the same shade as her own.
“Dada, are you sad?” Zoe asked, tucking into Tim’s side.
“Dada had a little bit of a moment where he was really scared,” Tim began, “and that made Dada a little bit sad. But that’s okay. Sometimes we get a little bit sad, or angry, and sometimes there’s a reason, but sometimes we don’t quite know why. And that’s okay too.”
Daisy burrowed further into Tim’s either side, her eyes fluttering closed.
“Why mama sad too?” Zoe asked quietly.
Lucy smiled, reaching out for both her girls and her boyfriend, her eyes filling with tears again.
“The baby in Mama’s belly makes her cry a lot, sweetie. She can’t control it.” Tim answered quickly.
Daisy’s breath had already evened out, a sign she was asleep. Tim’s answer seemed to satisfy Zoe, who tucked her head into Tim’s chest as he readjusted so they could all sleep.
As he lay back down, he caught Lucy’s eye as she adjusted her pillow again. I love you, he mouthed.
I love you too, she mouthed back.