Mama Natasha and baby Yelena chronicles

Baby's first night home

Natasha lets out a quiet groan into her pillow when she was yet again woken up by Yelena's loud wails, forcing herself to sit up and take a wary glance at the alarm clock sat on her nightstand.

When she see's the time, 2:18 flash at her, she sends the inanimate object a glare and kicks off the blankets. This was the third time Yelena had woken up since since Natasha had tried to settle her at a little past midnight, as she makes her way over to the infant and carefully scoops her up into her embrace, she wants nothing more than to sleep.

"Okay baby, mama's here," she coos as she nuzzles nose into Yelena's neck, eyes instinctively closing when she takes in that addictive newborn baby smell.

"Do you need a change?" She lays her down onto the changing table and unbuttons her onesie, poking a finger into the opening of the diaper so she could slightly pull it aside.

Clean and dry.

"No? Okay, are you hungry?" She scoops a wailing Yelena back up into her arms and cradles her close, pushing up her oversized T-shirt before grazing her nipple across the little ones bottom lip.

Yelena instinctively latches on and as she suckles, the room grows quiet. But Natasha doesn't celebrate just yet, because she has a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't milk that Yelena wanted. And she was correct. As soon as her behind hits the seat of the rocking chair, the infant unlatches and let's out another unhappy wail.

"Not hungry," Natasha mutters as she ate a back up and situates the tiny squirming body back against her chest, "what's the matter peanut? Mhhh?" She coos as she begins to pace around the room, one hand resting across the base of Yelena's neck whilst the other softly pats her padded behind.

Yelena simply squirms, her tiny face growing a concerning shade of red.

"Shh, it's okay," Natasha murmurs into her ear as she carefully manoeuvres herself into bed, resting her back against the headboard. She allows the infant to remain laying on her chest, knowing no harm would accidentally come to her if like it might if she were to place her down onto the mattress, "mama's here little one. It's okay."

The baby pays her no mind, and the octave of her cries rise to the point of pain for the mother who's ear was only a few inches away.

Natasha carefully pulls her knees upwards and rests the infant against her thighs, taking the angry, little balled up fists into her hands and wedging her thumbs in between them. Instinct has Yelena's fingers wrapping around the pads of them, but her little legs continue to kick unhappily.

"What do you need peanut? Mhh? Please tell mama." Natasha coos as she rocks her legs side to side slightly, freeing one of her hands from Yelena's and sliding it up her unbuttoned onesie. She rests her palm against the tiny chest, careful fingers grazing over the soft baby skin.

Yelena's cries halt for a moment at the feeling, almost in a way that could almost be described as relief, and something abruptly hits Natasha like a truck on the freeway.

Skin on skin contact. Just seconds after she was born, before she'd even been wiped clean, Yelena had been placed against her bare chest.

The nurse had that that besides helping to create a lasting bond between mother and baby, the practice can also help baby transition from the womb to the outside world and improve post-birth recovery as well as making breastfeeding a little easier.

Natasha had initially taken her words with a grain of salt, because whilst she had no doubt she loved her baby with her entire being, motherhood was never something she thought she'd would have. Not after her past. Not after the things she'd done because how can she; someone so broken and damaged with so much red on her ledger be responsible for something so innocent and defenceless?