~Close your eyes and picture the warmth of the sun on your skin... that's how being loved by her felt~
Harry Styles is a nepotism baby turned new father, left clueless with a newborn baby to raise, he is overwhelmed and under pressure. Matters are...
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"Here comes the sun..."
I sing in a whisper, tipping my head back until it hits the wood of the rocking chair.
"Doo doo doo doo..."
All of me was freezing cold apart from the small tiny patch of my chest where Amos sleeps. He is curled up on the top of my chest, his blue blanket square sheeted over him.
"Here comes the sun, and I say..."
My voice is thick with sleep, my tired feet push into the rug beneath me to rock the chair.
"It's alright..."
The second I stop rocking the chair back and forward Amos startles and starts crying.
When I stop singing to him he startles and starts crying.
I've spent the last twelve days of his life rocking in this chair and singing the same song over and over.
"Little darlin', it's been a long, cold and lonely winter..."
My eyes are closed, not that I would be able to see anything in the dark room anyway.
Back and forward.
Back and forward.
Back and forward.
"Little darlin', it feels like years since it's been here..."
My hand rubs up and down his small back, occasionally tapping.
I look down to him, squinting in the darkness to see his small face and his lips that seem to clench like they're sucking on absolutely nothing.
"Are you asleep yet?" I whisper, holding my breath.
My groggy singing stops but my feet continue to push the wooden chair back and forward with a slight creak.
Just as I ask the question, I see his small nose scrunch up in the same form that he always does before he screams his head off. His little button nose wrinkles and I am jumping quickly to soothe him.
"Shhh" I hush. "Daddy is here Amos... shhhh, no, Amos."
At this point I am practically pleading with him to settle himself back down and sleep. Although not considerably late in the evening, I have been awake for over twenty four hours now.
I'm so exhausted I feel like the only way I will get rest is if I dropped down dead.
No matter how much I beg or how much I rock the two of us back and forth, he starts crying. His mouth opens wide and the infant cries flood through the room.
With a sigh, I stand up from the chair and pace up and down while holding him close and cradling the back of his head. There is a small smattering of almost white blonde hair on the back of his head that is so soft against my fingertips that I would mistake it for silk.
