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“Maman?”
Harmony groans as she buries her face in her pillow. She’s tired and groggy and sleep-deprived, but that won’t stop clammy little hands from latching onto her arm. That won’t stop the weight of a little body from hanging onto Harmony, nor will it stop that weight from pulling itself up onto the bed. Nothing will stop this tiny force from scaling her mother like she’s a fearsome mountain no person has managed to cross. Harmony’s tired body is the hill and the bed is the valley as the toddler topples over and lands between fluffy pillows Harmony had been using to try getting comfortable despite the aches in her body. Everything is an obstacle course in this bedroom; everything is a challenge in life as Harmony finally allows her eyes to open, finally preparing herself for another day of little hands in her face and little fingers poking her cheek.
“Maman! Wake up! Papa made croissants!”
Big blue eyes stare at Harmony as she finally finds the courage to face the light. Big blue eyes that are nowhere near as electric as her father’s, but always just as bright, stare at her. Big blue eyes that are companied by the widest grin she has ever seen.
“Maman is awake!”
The child laughs and grins, kicks and squirms as her mother pulls her close to press kisses to her head and face. She screams and squeals, always giggling, always happy, and that laughter has Harmony melting; this one, she really does sound just like her father. She has the same laugh as him, that same hiccup as she squirms. She sounds exactly the same as him as kisses are pressed to his face by his wife when she finds him working, glaring at a spreadsheet he’s made himself to stay on top of the household finances. This toddler, she sounds just like Urbain.
“Maman!”
Harmony hums as she presses one last big kiss to her little girl’s face. It’s the last kiss, she swears! At least, for now. It’s the last kiss until she can’t resist anymore, because how is she supposed to hold back and not kiss that cute chubby face? How is she supposed to not kiss those big rosy cheeks she could just bite into? She could just devour this little thing; she really does just get cuter as she gets older. Or maybe it’s just that she looks more and more like her father. Every day, a little more of Urbain pops up in her features and in her mannerisms. She is the spitting image of her father with the ever-slightest hint of Harmony sprinkled in.
“Charlie!” Both mother and daughter perk up at the voice, the bedroom door creaking open to let in a sliver of light. “What did I say about bothering your mother?”
Yeah, Harmony can get used to waking up on Saturday mornings like this. She had gotten used to the sounds of squeals and demands for attention. She’s also used to dirty blond hair and big blue eyes being the first thing she sees in the morning, at least ever since her little Charlotte has been out of a crib. She’s used to her daughter making it known that she will be the center of her mother’s universe, but Harmony is also getting used to the new changes at home. She’s slowly getting used to the new room, the new décor, the new bed. She’s slowly getting used to the new arched windows that let light stream in in the morning and the new sounds the floor and door make. She’s slowly getting used to use to her new surroundings, but most of all, she’s slowly getting used to new sights.
A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she tentatively pushes herself up into a sitting position. A smile and a fluttering feeling erupt as Urbain comes in, an infant cuddled against him as he makes his way to the bed. And while she knows he’s beautiful, even in that old tattered t-shirt and wearing one of her silly headbands to keep his hair out of his face, her eyes can’t stay on him. They dart right down, narrowing onto the baby. Because if Harmony had gotten used to her daughter being the only addition to her life in the last four years, then everything has changed once again. Every morning, it dawns on her that there are not one, but two of these little ones in her home, two of these little ones that depend on her, two of these little ones that she adores more than she ever thought possible.
It’s still so strange that after all these years, Harmony still can’t quite put into words the way these children melt her heart. It’s not just love; what she feels for Urbain is love, adoration and devotion even, but those feelings don’t hold a candle to what she feels for the two little lives she’s created. Ther’s a protectiveness, a need for proximity, a desire that Harmony really can’t communicate. There’s something so deep inside her soul that craves control as she holds her hands out to Urbain. There’s an instinct to just hold this child close, press him to her chest as soon as Urbain places him in Harmony’s arms as he presses a kiss to her head. She just needs to hold him, watch his little chest rise and fall as he sleeps soundly against her. She needs to know he is alive and well.
“He’s okay, mon amour.” Another kiss is pressed to Harmony’s hair. “He just finished his bottle. 60 ml.”
She knows Urbain is right. She knows Urbain is a lot better at this whole taking care of the kids’ thing. He’s far more equipped for this than she is, but the panic is overwhelming. Even if she wants to believe Urbain, even if deep down she does believe him, she can’t help feeling agitated every time the baby is too far from her for too long. Rationally, she knows that if he’s not with her, he’s just with Urbain. She knows that if she wakes up and the bassinet by her bedside is empty, then the baby is with his father, but still, dread pools in the pit of her stomach. Everything can set Harmony into a whirling panic. Everything, including having her new baby be quiet for too long.
“Mon amour,” another kiss to the top her head, and a swipe of a thumb at her misty eyes, “he’s fine. Everything is okay. Deep breath.”
Okay, so Harmony is panicking ever so slightly. She’s panicking as she cradles this beautiful, quiet, tiny infant in her arms. She panics, because she’s never had this happen before. Charlotte happened to be a screamer for her first year, which might have left Harmony exhausted, but at least she knew her daughter was alive thanks to her healthy lungs. Like clockwork, Charlotte would scream for food, for attention, for a diaper change; Maxwell, on the other hand, is almost too calm for a newborn. He, unlike his sister, might squeak at his discomfort, a sound so faint, Harmony fears she’ll miss it one day. He’s so quiet that her paranoia keeps her awake, her burning eyes staring at him sleeping through the mesh of the bassinet. And she can stay awake like this for hours in the dark, hours of fighting off sleep until Urbain is forcing her to close her eyes, begging her to get a little rest. It is only then when she’ll let exhaustion take over, finally allowing herself to sleep for no more than two hours at a time.
“Harmony.”
Harmony blinks, her eyes wet and staring up at Urbain. He’s caught all her stray tears, he always does, but there’s something in the way he’s looking at her that causes her to tense. She knows she’s making things up, she knows it’s just her hormones that are completely out of wack, but she can’t help the horrible sinking feeling in her gut. Even as he kisses her tears away, whispering sweet words into her skin, the anxiety is overbearing. It blares in her ears; what if she’s a burden to him? What if she’s a horrible mother to her children? What if she fails this tiny, delicate human that’s sleeping so soundly against her?
“Maman is crying.”
Yeah. Yeah, she is. She absolutely is crying as Charlotte toddles on the bed, her arms out to keep her balance as her feet sink into the mattress. Harmony is almost sobbing as her daughter grabs onto her arm and presses a kiss to her cheek. She’s almost choking on the sobs as the little one grins, repeating words she’s heard Urbain says with a smile at least a million times over the years.
“Kisses make everything better! Now maman won’t be sad! Because I love maman. And I don’t want her to be sad.”
“I’m—” Laughter mingles with sobs. “Thank you, mon trésor. Maman loves you too. So much, baby. So, so very much.”
Giggles erupt out of the girl as she plops herself down next to her mother. Her attention span is that of a four-year-old; she’s moved onto her new target. She zeroes in on her brother, wiggling around as she gets a good look at him. She hovers around the baby, inspecting him like he’s a brand-new overly colorful toy she’s spotted at the store.
“Maman?” Now her eyes are big and round, staring at her mother who has finally managed to slow the tears streaming down her face. “When is he going back to his real family?”
This, of course, pulls a snort out of Urbain who has since gotten comfortable at the end of the bed. He’s trying his hardest to not laugh at his daughter, pressing his fist to his mouth, but he’s failing miserably. He can’t keep it in, not when she’s looking at him with curious eyes and asking horrible questions with nothing but innocent intent. He can’t not laugh, so he just does. He laughs freely and beautifully as Charlotte jumps back up and launches herself into her father’s arms, demanding to know what’s so funny. And he holds her tight, telling her that it’s nothing, that he loves her, that she’s just saying silly things. He laughs and holds this little girl and Harmony feels her heart melting once more for this man. She feels herself fall even more for him, if that’s even possible after all the years they’ve been together.
“Charlie, baby,” the little one pushes her father away to look at her mother, “we’re his family. This is your new baby brother, remember?”
“But I didn’t ask for a brother.”
Again, Urbain is trying not to laugh. Again, he’s snorting, which draws Charlotte’s attention back to him. Again, he’s chuckling as he presses a kiss to her hair.
“Well, do you want us to send him back? Since you didn’t ask for a baby brother?”
The toddler shakes her head. She’s once again so much like her father; every emotion can be read on her face, from the initial contemplating of whether she wants the baby gone to the distress at the thought of sending him away. Charlotte can be read like an open book, watched like a movie, every motion so vibrant on her face. There’s no questioning what she’s thinking as she breaks free from her father’s hug, only to make her way back to her mother. She stands before her, staring down at her brother she was ready to toss out to the streets just moments prior. She stares intensely before crouching down near the baby. And she’s cautious, glancing up at her mother before pushing her face to the newborn’s head, pressing a kiss right there.
“Careful, Charlotte!” It’s not her fault; how is she supposed to know that this tiny skull is still fragile and soft? “Gentle with the baby.”
“But papa always gives me kisses when I’m sleeping!”
She’s got a point. Urbain is the king of pressing kisses to her head and face right before bed, and in the morning, and at lunch, and at the park, and at any given moment, really. As soon as he can have her in his arms, spinning her around and making her giggle, he will be pressing kisses to his little princess’s face. He will be showering her with affection, which is honestly just so ridiculously adorable.
Harmony nods at her daughter as she gently ushers her closer. She’s gentle in showing the toddler how to handle her brother; she shows her how to hold his little hand and she shows her how to delicately press the smallest, lightest peck to his cheek. Harmony shows Charlotte how to convey her affection in a way that will not risk injuries, but that doesn’t stop the baby from stirring. He wiggles and whines, startling the girl, but thankfully, he remains asleep. He sleeps peacefully against his mother, surrounded by people who will forever adore him.
“Charlie?” She perks up at the sound of her name, quickly crawling towards her father who is still at the foot of the bed. “Are you getting hungry, ma puce?”
It’s getting late for her breakfast, and whatever Urbain has prepared is probably getting cold. It’s about time Harmony gets out of bed; it’s about time she starts being a functional human being again. She can’t let Urbain do everything around here; he’s already lifting their daughter into the air, pulling giggles out of her as he flips her upside down before putting her down on the floor. Urbain can’t be the only one being a parent and getting things done around this home. She can’t allow that, but as soon as she’s shifting, getting her body ready to leave bed, he’s sending her a look that freezes her in place.
“Charlie,” Urbain narrows his eyes onto Harmony before turning his attention back to the toddler, “do papa a favor and bring me your night time water cup, please? We’ll wash it for so you can have your cup for breakfast, okay?”
Charlotte happily obliges, dashing out of her parents’ room just as Urbain makes his way to his side of the bed. Harmony watches him with suspicion as her scoots closer to her before pressing a kiss to her cheek. She has her guards up as her hold on the infant tightens, but just as quickly, she relaxes. It’s just Urbain. He is safe.
“How’d you sleep, Harms?” She hums in response, which is more than enough for Urbain to understand that she’s still exhausted. “And how are you feeling?”
“Like everything is about to fall out of my body.”
A soft sigh breaks from his lips. It’s somewhere between a chuckle and resignation, a sound he’s been making a lot more lately, and Harmony isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. Part of her wonders if he sees her as gross as she feels, but another part, a stronger part of herself knows that it’s just the hormones. It’s just the anxiety and other messed up chemicals in her brain that have her thinking that, because she knows that Urbain loves her. She knows he adores her; he makes sure to point it out as much as he can. With every kiss, every sweet nothing he whispers into her skin, with every declaration of love, with every string of praise, Urbain makes sure that she can’t forget how crazy he is for her. He makes sure that whatever paranoia she feels, whatever part of her brain that tries to convince her that he hates her, all of those pounding thoughts are quelled. Never will he allow her to go a day without knowing that she is the center of his universe, the most talented person he’s ever met, the strongest one as well. Never will he go a single day without reminding her that he is blessed to have her as the mother of his children, the love of his life, his very best friend in the world.
“Do you think you’re up for breakfast at the kitchen table? Or do you want me to bring it up to you?”
Harmony shakes her head. “I can get up. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.”
Urbain nods before pushing himself off the bed, though not without leaving Harmony with one last kiss to her temple and reminder her to not push herself too hard. She doesn’t need to be up just yet if she doesn’t feel up to it; he’s more than happy to be taking care of everything, including her. Especially her. She is, after all, the one who pushed a whole baby out of her barely a week ago. She should be resting and bonding with their new little one. She should be focusing on herself, on not putting any stress on her body that needs to heal.
“Urbain?” He hums as he turns back to Harmony, one hand on the doorframe. “I love you.”
“And you, mon amour,” he’s back at her side, leaning over her and the baby, careful and gentle as he cradles her cheek, “I adore you. I love you more every day. I love you to the moon and back, to the sun and back, to the kitchen and back because I cannot fathom spending time away from you. You,” Urbain presses his forehead to Harmony’s, his eyes falling shut, “are my everything. And I love you. And I’ll keep reminding you every single day how much I love you and our family. I love you, Harms. I love you so much.”