Self Doubt

February 23rd...a date he could never forget. How could he? It was quite possibly the most turbulent time of his entire life – and that included surviving being stabbed. Only four hours ago he was told that he'd be a father a lot sooner than expected. While he wanted to imagine maybe it was a mistake, there was no mistaking the fact that they brought his wife through those doors crying. He moved quickly to her side, taking her hand in his own, biting down on his lip.

The poor man was sure that he was in the wrong place. He loved his wife to death, the idea that he could have put her through such misery was almost painful. He felt every single wince, every movement, and every time she yelled. He hated that for her.

Still, unsure of everything and ready to give up, he heard his wife speaking to him. Her voice was quiet and breathless from everything going on, but she managed to break through the other sounds in the hospital room. "She'll love you no matter what."

He nodded, laying his head against her hand. "I know, I'm just...scared, it's a lot to handle, you know? I want to be a good daddy to her, and I can't even walk."

"You will." She smiled and kissed his hand. "I'll teach you both."

"Is that before or after work?" He was only partially sarcastic with his reply. He knew how bad this must be for her, but she was tough and refused to give him the upper hand. she'd always been stubborn. And while she tried to play it off like she wasn't in pain, he knew better than to believe her. "Becky, I love you. So, so much."

"I know," She whispered, closing her eyes tightly to the oncoming wave of pain that overtook her. A few moments later, she was back to looking at him with those dark brown eyes, full of all the love in the world. "Just make sure you share it. I know how much you hate the idea."

"I just..." He sighed and lowered his head. "...I want to be perfect. I can't do much else right now, so that's the one thing I shouldn't get wrong, right? But I don't know what to feed her. I don't know when or how long. I don't know how long naps should be. Should I let her cry herself to sleep or no? Should I worry if she's quiet? Becky, I just don't know."

Becky reached out and lay a hand on his cheek gently, tugging him down to kiss his lips. "We'll be together on that one. I promise, you won't ever have to worry about it. You'll be a great daddy," She whispered, trying to remember to breathe. "Besides, it's hard to mess up a baby."

"You say that, but if anyone could pull it off, it's me." He sighed, hand tightly holding hers. "I'm scared, Becky. I'm terrified of messing up. I don't think I can do this."

"It's a little late to back out now, don't you think?" She frowned and lay her head against his arm. "Don't you bail on me now. I need you. We need you. Just...think of all things your daddy did for you. You admired him, so surely he did something right."

"Yeah, I guess so." He kissed her head and pushed some of her hair behind her ears. "You'll be a great mother. You did a great job with our furbaby."

"That..." She groaned and tried to re-position herself, to no avail. "That hardly counts as practice."

He moved a little closer and closed his eyes, laying his head against hers. "Becky. We'll do this together, right? You promise me?"

She nodded and smiled to him, though her smile was sheepish. He could tell her will was fading. The thought of everything was starting to overwhelm him. Before he could say anything to her, he could hear the nurses telling him he had to leave. He didn't want to, but he knew he was only in the way.

He was still sitting quietly in the waiting room when the nurse came to retrieve him. "Is she-"

"Mother and child are fine," she replied, smiling to him. "Would you like to meet her?"

He looked up, startled. "Her?"

"Yes, your daughter." The nurse held open the door for him. "Come, she's eager."

He wheeled himself into the room, half expecting to find Becky asleep, but instead she was sitting up, her knuckle just barely grazing the head poking out of the soft pink blanket. The image was one he'd never forget, despite feeling like his heart shattered into a million pieces. Here was this perfect, wonderful, beautiful little girl – and he didn't know the first thing about taking care of her. He brought himself next to the bed and smiled to his wife. "She's..."

"...beautiful. Do you want to hold her?"

He paused, hesitation in his voice, uncertainty in his motions. "I—won't hurt her?"

"Jean, hold her like this," Becky demonstrated how to hold her and smiled. "Keep her against your chest, you won't have to worry. And she likes the sound of your heartbeat. She also really likes the sound of your voice. It's comforting."

"How do you already know that?" He questioned, holding his arms out for her to place the infant into them. She was so tiny compared to him, almost as if she was a doll. The child was so still and quiet, he almost worried for a moment that she was dead. His azure eyes had tears in them as he looked down at his daughter. "She's perfect."

"She's her daddy's daughter." Becky smiled weakly. "She has your eyes. But she's like me, too. She sleeps when you talk to her. She loves your voice."

"Do you really think I can do this, Becky? I mean...I thought being a soldier was hard but this-"

She leaned over and kissed him mid sentence. "You'll be fine. You're my hero, so now you can be hers, too."

And just like that, all the fears and doubts washed away. They ebbed in the distance, just barely nagging him. He kissed his daughter's head and smiled to his wife. "Thank you, Becky."