NHL Imagines

Matt Duchene

Y/N P.O.V

   I cradled my newborn baby in my arms. Ella Grace Duchene. Her cheeks were as soft as the duvet tucked away in Matt and I's bed. She was fast asleep, her lips parted open, a soft snore emitting from them every so often. Once in a while, she would bring her thumb between her lips, sucking on it. It really was the most beautiful sight ever. My parents were absolutely right, I thought to myself.

   Growing up, I would always complain if my parents didn't let me go somewhere, or didn't let me do something. The only answer I would get is "Because, I said so." Most of my replies landed along the lines of "But they get to do it!" or "What's the big deal?"

     And that's when my parents pulled out the "Wait-till-you-have-a-family-to-understand-what-I-mean," card. It was always the same answer. "Y/N, you will never truly understand the way we feel, until you have a child of your own."

     But now I know what my parents were talking about. This sudden feeling of protecting your child from absolutely anything. Doing anything to make sure it doesn't end up in the wrong hands. You have a new found respect for all the parents out there who were always over-protective of their child. Just knowing that I produced this baby has me rethinking every little decision I've ever made.

    I mean, this baby belongs to me! It came out of me! It is mine! I'm the legal mother; Matt is the legal father. We have a family together. The thought made me smile warmly. Despite the pain I endured giving birth to it, I would snap my fingers in a second and do it over if it meant having another. It really is a miracle.

    "Matt, come hold her." I spoke in a soft voice. My vocal chords felt like they would shatter soon due to the screaming I went through for 2 and a half hours. It was kind of like being at concert. Except, more painful. And I wasn't having fun.

   "I'm good, babe." He was sitting directly across from me, reading a magazine.

      I huffed, "You know, she's yours too! You'll have to hold her sooner or later."

     "I choose later."

      I rolled my eyes, and sat up in my bed. "It's been 2 days. You haven't held her once. That's your daughter, whether you believe it or not."

      "I know," He sighed, pushing himself out of his chair and making his way to sit next to my bed. "I'm--" He started, but stopped before he spoke another word.

     He looked aimlessly around the room, before his eyes settled on mine again. I squeezed his hand in reassurance. "I'm scared." He finally admitted. He broke eye contact immediately. "Matt," I began, but his head was turned the other way. "Look at me." I urged. Finally, his head slowly twisted in my direction. "Don't be scared! I trust you. You'll be fine," I promised.

    "She's so delicate," He started, holding her small finger in his big hand. His eyes showed signs of hesitancy and pain. "I wouldn't ever forgive myself if I dropped her."

      "It's okay, take your time."

      He simply smiled in return and sat up from his seat. "I'm gonna get something to eat. You want anything?"

      I shook my head, "I'm good, thanks."

     With that, he retreated out of the room, turning left towards the cafeteria.

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      I heard a knock on the door, and my mother soon appeared at the doorway. "Hey, sweetie!" She sat in the seat Matt was previously sitting on and crossed her right leg over her left. "Hey, mom."