aeipathy | one shot collection

it's the little things.

*Aubree's POV*

It's a wonderful, complex thing, life is. My experience watching Willow in labor was excruciating because seeing Willow in pain is the most harrowing thing I've ever had to watch, although a new form of life, life that we made, comes out of it. It's such a beautiful thing really, hearing the first cry of life from your newborn child. It seizes your heart and locks onto it, hard and tight, never letting go. The tears flowing down Willow's face from pure exhaustion and joy was the most pristine thing I've ever been awakened to; tears of my own sprinkling from my eyes as I hold little Marie in my arms for the first time, wrinkled eyelids squeezed shut, tiny, smooth fists balled up tightly as she cried. I was overcome with laughter, kissing my daughter and beautiful fiancée over and over again, so, so grateful for everything we have, and everything we're going to have.

°°°

We've been home for a couple of weeks, and I don't think I've ever been this exhausted.

Taking care of a child, a tiny human being, takes much more endurance and patience than one might think. Her little vocal box packs quite a punch, especially when she's hungry.

And let me tell you, she's always hungry.

Willow and I take turns with everything; one of us changes Marie's diapers while the other gets the little baby bath ready, Willow will breast feed while I cook for us. There's always something going on, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Willow is gently rocking Marie in her arms as I turn the corner with a laundry basket, Willow impatiently trying to shush and lull her to sleep.

"Come on, kid," she murmurs quietly, stroking our baby's forehead, "please be quiet. You need to take a nap. You're cranky because you're tired, so please go to sleep."

I sigh, placing the basket in the laundry room. I walk back into the living room where Willow is, lightly touching her shoulder to get her attention.

"Babe, let me put Marie to sleep. She's tired, but so are you. Go take a bath, drink some tea and get some rest. Let me take care of her from here."

Willow shakes her head. "No, I'm alright."

"No Willow, please rest for me, will you? I want you to get some rest."

Willow sighs, yawning. "Okay, fine. Don't overwork yourself, I mean it, okay?"

I nod, giving her a small smile as she rubs her eyes, pecks me on the cheek, rests Marie gently in my arms, and walks into the bathroom.

Sitting in the rocking chair, I hold Marie close to my chest. She won't stop screaming; I don't see how her little lungs can handle it.

"Please, sweetheart, calm down," I murmur, kissing her lightly on the forehead. I begin to sing to her, going with the tunes of the classic lullabies I know.

After a while of me singing, her crying gets quieter, her cerulean irises focused on me. Her hairless eyebrows furrow, trying to figure out the odd sounds. I smile widely when Marie's lips turn slightly upward, her squirmy body calming a little.

Her eyelids droop, fighting sleep. I rub my thumb over her arms and face lovingly, quietly singing the last verse of Somewhere Over The Rainbow. I kiss her cheek when she finally falls asleep, standing up and walking into our bedroom. I gently lay her in her crib, wrapping her fuzzy pink blanket around her.

Turning around, Willow is fast asleep, the duvet pulled around her neck, her body rising and falling evenly with each breath.

How long has it been since she's gotten a good night's rest? I wonder, grateful she's getting it now. I carefully slide into bed next to her, trying not to wake her as I push the hair out of her face, planting a sweet kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, love," I whisper, placing my glasses on the bedside table. I tug the blanket up, scooting as close as I can to Willow without disturbing her. I stretch out, sighing in content as sleep starts to take me away to dreamland.

At its utmost fragility, life is extremely important, in all forms. Cherish it, for it is only temporary. But in the time that I have it, I've realized it is a wonderful thing.