This fluff/drabble came to me while listening to Lullaby For An Anxious Child by Sting. The words didn't flow together how I would have liked but I decided to post anyways. Hope you enjoy!
(This is not connected to any of my other Annie stories)
Oliver woke with a start, hearing cries coming from the adjoining room. With an initial sigh after his eyes focused, he looked over to Grace's side of the bed, hoping she was already on her way. Instead, he was surprised to see her fast asleep. He didn't wake her. This might have been the first time he'd seen her in a sound sleep in over two months. The past day was trying between a stressful meeting, trying to get to Annie's dance recital on time, and a silly argument the two of them had brought on by exhaustion.
Within seconds he was at the baby's crib, gently picking him up and cradling him in his arms.
"Shh, it's okay. Daddy's here."
Slowly Oliver rocked and bounced his son, hoping the cries would cease long enough to bring him down to the kitchen to fix his bottle. With no such luck, he rushed through the doors before Grace became aware.
"You haven't been this fussy for a while," Oliver said as he struggled with this early morning feeding. "Did you pick up on everyone else's bad moods?"
Two years ago Oliver never could have pictured himself sitting in the dark and speaking to such a small child — and so easily. For some reason, he didn't wonder if it was silly to have a conversation with someone who couldn't even sit up on his own.
"You didn't need to hear Mommy and Daddy yelling. And you didn't need to see your sister panic when she lost her tap shoe. It's all still so new to you, isn't it? You don't know what to make of any of it. The world is such a big and scary place to you…"
Finally surrendering to his bottle, the child let out soft whines as he drank. Oliver never tired of his soft voice or the feeling of his tiny hands in his.
"There you are," he smiled. "You're feeling better already. No need to wake Mommy for some belly rumbles."
The baby's eyes opened, first looking at the bottle in front of him, then tipping his head up to look at his father. With this, he stopped eating and fussed again.
Oliver tried a couple more times to bring the bottle to his son's mouth before bringing him to his shoulder. He rubbed and patted his back a minute or two until he relaxed. Worried he'd fall asleep before half the bottle was finished, Oliver cradled his arms again and the battle began one more time.
Fed and settled down at last, Oliver wearily brought the child back upstairs. Of course, the baby was now the baby was wide awake, so he sat in Grace's rocking chair hoping to lull him back to sleep. He didn't sleep, but he didn't fuss, either. For this Oliver is grateful. If days like the last stressed him out so much, he could only imagine how they must affect Grace. He certainly helped in caring for the child, but naturally, most of the responsibility fell on her. And she did it happily and without complaint. However, exhaustion won her over now and again. This was the case tonight. He worried there would be another episode like the one a week or two after giving birth. Lack of sleep made her sick. He was sure she never slept more than two hours at a time. Every night she woke up in a panic over the baby, jumping out of bed and rushing to his side to make sure he was sleeping peacefully. Fortunately, it only took one high fever to serve as a lesson to relax. Oliver was thankful for this despite how terrified he felt those few days.
"We need to let Mommy rest more often," Oliver whispered as his thoughts carried on. "She loves you so much. She wants to spend every minute she can with you and give you the happiest life any kid ever had. But between you and your sister... and me as well... she never gets a break."
The child continued to look up at Oliver, tugging his nightshirt with his fist.
"You think between you, me, and Annie we can help Mommy feel better? A few days of peace and quiet ought to do it, you think?"
The baby's eyes started shutting after a few more minutes, lulled by the steady movement of the chair and his father's soft tones. Oliver, too, felt himself nodding off. He couldn't see the clock in the darkness but figured since there wasn't any light shining through the window yet he would be able to catch a couple more hours of sleep.
A minute or two later he stood and carried the child back to his crib. Leaving the warmth of his father woke him, letting out a few cries. Oliver hushed him again.
"Everything is fine. Daddy's here. Only a few hours until morning. There's no need to cry."
Oliver lowered his hand into the crib and stroked the soft hairs on his son's head. He settled for a moment but got worked up again when his father lifted his hand. So Oliver picked him up once more and the baby instantly calmed.
"You don't want to be left alone, is that it?" Oliver said.
Remembering the early days after he was born, he went over to the trunk of bedding and blankets and pulled out the pillow Grace had used when the baby slept in their bed. Going back to his and Grace's room he set the pillow down and nestled their son securely between them. The baby fussed only a little bit, thinking he was being left alone once again. Realizing his father was laying down beside him, he fell back asleep as his familiar hand lightly covered his chest.
Hearing the baby, Grace turned over and reached for her son still half asleep. Her hand met her husband's, and her eyes didn't open as any assumption as to how the child got here was a pleasant one. She smiled into her pillow before drifting back into a deep sleep.