Chapter Text
Organized panic. If he had to explain it in two words that would be it. Everything that could be done had been done. This was years in the making and Shane Hollander could not get his feet to stop moving. He knew he was driving everyone crazy but he could not stop moving.
The mental check list had been run through his head ad nauseum: nursery decorated, check. Bottles and diapers procured, check. A comfy rocking chair, check. A highly recommended pediatrician, check. The mental ability to be a parent… that was what he questioned. The things? He had those down- or could quickly access whatever was needed.
It was the other questions that bombarded him: can he be a loving father? He was concerned about that, truly. He had spent years watching Ilya with kids and how easy it seemed to him. Shane knew he loved kids, and that he was good with children he could hand over to their rightful parents at the end of the day. Would he be able to compare?
He worried about genetics. After much discussion, it was his sperm that they used. Is there anything that he had that could have passed on? He had always been a little quirky and was bullied a little bit until he became a hockey savant. He did not want that for their little one.
He sat next to Ilya and took hold of his hand. “How are you so calm?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re sitting and just watching me pace like some kind of caged animal,” Shane sighed, exasperated.
“I’m used to watching you process things in many different ways. This is not the weirdest one.” Ilya squeezed his husbands hand gently once, twice, three times. He watched a calm come over Shane’s face as he raised their joined hands and touched Shane’s knuckles to his lips. “This is a lot of movement, but is good reason, yes?”
“My god Ilya, we’re going to be parents and probably today,” Shane let out a choked laugh, his eyes found the wall clock. They had been in the hospital waiting room for hours already, but had been told that everything was going well. It was 2:43pm. They’d likely have their little one before midnight…
“Our little July baby…” Ilya’s voice was positively wistful. “You are not thinking twice?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life outside of marrying you.” Shane felt his heart squeeze- an actual flutter in his chest at the thought. “We’re going to be a family. You, me, baby makes three.”
A while later, just before 10pm on July 23rd. Evelyn Rose Hollander-Rozanov was born. 7lbs 8oz. 22 inches long.
*
“She is tired. I am tired. You are tired.” Shane paced. “I think my brain has stopped working. Is there a clinical word from actually going crazy from too little sleep? If so, I have that. That’s what I have and I’m going to die.”
Evelyn was held in the crook of Ilya’s elbow. A little bounce in his knees kept her content. The near silence was a rarity. At five days old, Evie was a very loud baby. At this point Ilya was afraid if he stopped the slow bounce that it would be another evening of wails. He needed to make this into a work out, lunges perhaps? Deeper squats? Kill two birds with one stone.
“She hates us,” Shane threw his hands up in the air. “Maybe she hates the nursery? The cabin? Her pajamas? Maybe they’re scratchy?”
“She doesn’t hate us,” Ilya sighed. His eyes were drooping- he was so so tired. “She feels this anxiousness I think.”
“So this is my fault?!”
“I did not say that,” Ilya said sternly but quietly. “Sweetheart, we are new to this. I don’t know if anyone is perfect on their first try, in the first week. Maybe by the time we get to baby number seven there will be no crying because we have grown into perfect parents.”
“We’re not having seven children, Ilya,” the warning did not hold much weight as it came with a small smile.
“Do you want to call your parents?” Ilya asked carefully. “I hate seeing you like this- and you’re right- I think it’s the sleep. We have not slept more than a blink in five days. We’re all a little grumpy.”
Shane walked to Ilya and gently cradled the baby’s crown in his hand. Her jet black here was just a hint that maybe his genes paid off afterall. At least in physical traits. This little piece of him that now existed in this world. “I don’t want them to think we’re bad at this…”
“We’re not bad at this. I think they will be happy if we ask when we need them. We may need them tonight, just to get a few hours of sleep, yes?”
Shane dropped his forehead to Ilya’s shoulder and he felt Evelyn squirm between them. Her whimper turned into a cry. Shane closed his eyes tightly. “I’ll call them.”
A 1am phone call resulted in the cavalry arriving at 1:30. Shane could easily believe that his mother had a go bag ready, excited to jump into her grandmotherly duties with both feet. Thirty minutes, including a ten minute drive was record time.
“She’s crying a lot,” Shane apologized as he opened the door. “We’ve fed her, rocked her, gave her a bottle… I am sorry for calling you so late.”
Yuna breezed past him with the focus of a five-star general. David trailed behind and stopped to squeeze his sons shoulder in support. As she grabbed the baby from Ilya he collapsed into the couch.
“Hey my girl,” Yuna cooed. “You giving your daddies a hard time? You have to let them sleep you know. You have to sleep.”
Shane motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. “We’ve been keeping a notebook of when we feed and change her. I don’t know what we are doing wrong.” His fingers drift down the page, the numbers and times and dates blurred before his eyes. “I can barely see straight.”
“You go grab Ilya and go to bed. I can stay the rest of the night and tomorrow is a new day. That’s the great thing about being a parent, each day is a new day and none of them are ever the same.”
Shane kissed his mothers forehead, then Evie’s and went to grab his husband.
The white noise machine was overpowered by a snore. He nudged Ilya’s shoulder, “wake up. Let’s go to bed.”
There was no movement, no change of breath. Ilya was out cold. Shane grabbed a blanket and laid his head on Ilya’s thigh. He was asleep almost immediately.
*
At three weeks, they had settled into a rhythm. Evie still was not the best sleeper, but she was improving every day. They started tackling night time wake ups by alternating so they were both sleeping a bit more and were much less on edge. They felt like a family now. The silent movements of fathers who knew what the others move would be. They were like a symphony that had moved into dress rehearsals. Not perfect, but not at all bad either. He was proud of them, all three of them.
Ilya had become an expert swaddler and an expert at wrapping Evie in all sorts of comforting ways. He had taken to wearing her wrapped next to his heart almost consistently. His hand resting at her back- feeling her breaths. If Shane had not already been in love with Ilya, watching him love their daughter would have sealed the deal. He was head over heels, they both were, but Shane watched the man he loved become a father and loved him even more.
“You can’t just carry her everywhere all the time,” Shane smiled, nudging Evie’s fisted hand, which rested against Ilya’s chest. He was certain her papa’s heart was her very own soothing sound machine. She slept so well nestled in that exact spot.
“Watch me.”
“You’re like a kangaroo and she’s like a joey,” Yuna laughed as she washed bottles at the sink. It really took a village and Shane was so grateful for his parents more than he ever had been before.
“A joey?” Ilya’s eyebrow quirked.
“A baby kangaroo in their mothers pouch is called a joey,” David explained as he entered the kitchen. “Laundry is folded.”
“Joey…” Ilya pondered, his mind not leaving the spot where a seed had been planted. Shane could see his mind processing.
“She already has a name Ilya and it is not Joey. We’re not calling her Joey.”
Ilya nodded his head, ducking to whisper to the baby asleep against his chest, “don’t listen to him Joey. I’m not.”
“Undermining my authority already, huh Rozanov?” Shane smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his husband's lips.
“What? Me and Joey would not dream of it.”