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Shane woke up gone mid-night to an empty and cold bed, Ilya nowhere to be seen. Their new baby monitor blinked on his night stand but nothing could be heard from it. He still couldn't wrap his mind around that he was a dad, they finally had a child. Their beautiful adopted daughter, Katarina Ilyinichna Hollander.
It had been Shane who had insisted they followed Russian naming conventions when it came to giving her a middle name, especially since they had decided to only use Hollander for her last name ‘ I don't want her to be burdened with last name Rozanov. Also Hollander-Rozanova is too much. I think,’
The adoption process had been gruelling and soul crushing, when they had finally gotten the call --in late January right before all stars -- that an expecting mother from Alberta had chosen them, they both had burst into tears right there in the visitors locker room for the Toronto Guardians.
Shane had dived into planning and preparations to a neurotic degree, even his mum, in an attempt to be reassuring, had had to tell him to take it down a notch. ‘Honey, No one is ever fully ready for a baby.’
Which he thought had been stupid, they had just over six months to make sure everything was ready. He’d make sure they were, bringing home a baby wasn’t something you half-assed. If it hadn’t been for Ilya, and his calming presence, he would’ve shattered into pieces from the stress.
They had finally been allowed to take her home earlier that day, all rosy cheeked, bright eyed and dressed in the smallest Centaur onesie.
She had been born prematurely at 37 weeks and had to stay in the hospital for two days for observation, both him and Ilya had been worried sick despite the reassurance from the doctors that Katarina was fine and that it was just a precaution. One the drive home, Ilya had sat in the back seat next to her car seat chastising Shane each speed bump and turn he thought Shane took too hard. Katarina had been an angel the whole car journey, observing her Papa unphased by the alleged bumpy ride before promptly falling asleep.
The door to the nursery was ajar, the light from the nightlight spilled into the hallway warm and golden. Decorating the nursery had been therapeutic, it had given them something physical to pour their energy into, distracting them in-between updates from the birth mum as well creating concrete proof that Yes, they were about to become parents. They had hired an artist to paint a mural all over the room with motifs from Beatrix Potter's books after reading about the effects of colour and shapes on a baby's development.
Shane padded across the hall into their daughter’s room, where he found Ilya sitting on the floor in front of the crib. His hand through the slats, resting on Katarina’s stomach letting it rise and fall in time with her breaths.
“Hey.” Shane whispered, crossing the room joining his husband in watching Katarina sleep. Her PJ’s had little frogs playing hockey on them, Ilya had bought it right before the Playoffs in Boston. Her tiny fists rested on the mattress next to her head, she made adorable snuffling sounds in her sleep.
“You should come back to bed.” He leaned against Ilya’s shoulder, yawning.
“I’m alright, go back to sleep моя любовь.” Ilya’s voice was thick. He never once took his eyes off of the sleeping infant, his eyes clearly glassy even in the dim light.
“Ilya?”
“I need to make sure she doesn’t get SIDS.” Ilya said as if it was self-explanatory.
“SIDS?”
“Sudden Infant-”
“I know what SIDS is, baby. She won’t get SIDS.”
“How do you know? Is called sudden for a reason.” Ilya looked at Katarina as if he was scared she’d evaporate and disappear into thin air in front of his eyes. Shane understood him.
“We read all the parenting books and followed all the instructions from the hospital. I double checked everything, firm mattress, no loose fabrics or toys in the crib and room temperature at 20°C to avoid over heating. I have an Excel.” He tried to joke, turning to press a kiss to Ilya’s shoulder.
“But cigarette smoke increases the risk as well as being born prematurely” Ilya rubbed her belly gently with his thumb, his hand looking huge next to the sleeping baby. His voice waivered as he spoke.
“Doctors gave her a full bill of health, she’s strong ‘just in a hurry to be born and meet her dad’s’ “ Shane quoted the delivery nurse.
“And, you haven’t smoked in months, before she was even born.” Ilya swallowed, turning his face away from Shane. Ilya had pretty much stopped smoking years ago, but he had stopped completely once they got the call. He had been chewing more nicotine gum than normal to help curb the cravings as well as help with the stress.
“Hey, hey none of that. Ilya no.” He cupped Ilya’s face making him look at him. He wouldn’t let Ilya think for one second he could cause harm to their child. Especially not over something as ridiculous as this.
“None of that. OK?”
“OK.”
“Fuck Shane she’s so small and world is so big and cruel.” Ilya sniffled. He had been scared he wouldn’t be able to be a good father. That he would become as cold and mean as his own father had been, no matter how many times Shane tried to tell him otherwise.
He had officially been a dad for less than 24-hours and already he couldn’t phantom ever become anything like Girgori. Holding his daughter for the first time he had been filled with an even stronger sense of resentment towards his own father, how could anyone hold their child, watch them grow up and not burst with pride at their accomplishments?
He still felt nearly paralysed with fear looking at the miniature person --who somehow managed to encompass his entire world-- who relied on him for everything, who would look to him for guidance and comfort. Would he ever be enough? Be what she needed? The terror choked him.
She scrunched her face, making a small displeased noise before smacking her mouth and settling back into sleep with a huff.
“How will we keep her safe?” His voice wavered, made shaky by the tears. Shane could feel his own eyes well up. Looking at Katarina he was filled with an overwhelming amount of love and paralysing fear.
“It’s terrifying.” He admitted. Ilya took his hand with his free one, interlocking their fingers squeezing tightly.
Neither one of them said anything for a while, they just sat on the plush rug watching their baby sleep. Her round rosy cheeks, her mouth in a tiny pout, her hair the same ginger as her biological mother --it was already starting to curl at the nape. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“I won’t go back next season.” Ilya said, breaking the silence.
“I know we talked about playing one last season, but I don’t think I can leave her.”
“Okay.” If Ilya had expected him to argue he didn’t show it.
“You should still play, if you want to.” Shane had no idea how to feel about quitting hockey. Hockey had been his whole identity for the majority of his life. Even if they had talked about retiring it had still felt like a far away hypothetical future and now it was here.
Would hockey even be the same without Ilya? The two had been so intrinsically linked it felt impossible to separate them. Shane couldn’t remember what it felt like to play and not share the ice with Ilya Rozanov. Ilya and hockey had been the two absolute constants in his life, for nearly two decades.
He looked from Ilya to his daughter and he knew what he’d choose a thousand times over.
He stood up, instantly missing the heat from Ilya. He walked over to the armchair in the corner of the room and grabbed the large patchwork quilt. He draped it over Ilya, sitting back down, snuggling in under the blanket with his husband who threw an arm around his waist pulling him closer to himself.
Shane put his hand through the slats as well, resting his hand on one of Katarina’s tiny legs.
They sat, cuddled in together on the lush rug and watched their daughter sleep. It wasn’t until the first rays of dawn fell through the venetian blinds that either one of them moved. Katarina woke up with a shrill cry.
“You take her, and I'll go put on coffee.” Shane yawned, pressed a kiss to Ilya’s hair and stood up stretching.