[H.S] Shots

As Long As I will love you:

Song: The Light- Sara Bareilles 

::WARNING: Contains mention of breastfeeding, language and discussion of Postpartum Depression (PPD). Sometimes called Postnatal Depression (PND). Please read only if you are comfortable. ::

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“Daddy!” Harry heard a little voice cry, perking his ears and making him turn from the cheese toasty he’s fixing for her. Chunking up an apple to set beside it so maybe he’ll at least get a little fruit in her. He sliced the sandwich into two triangles. ‘Not squares, Daddy!’ and leaned over to stir the red pepper soup on the stove because she didn’t like tomatoes but insisted on having ‘red soup’ with her cheese toasties. Perhaps she’d been watching the food channel with him too much. You had a bit of a foodie on your hands, it looked like.

He could hear little socked feet scampering towards him. “Careful, baby,” he called out a warning. Not wanting her to take a tumble on the hardwood floors. A few heartbeats, later and he could feel a little hand fisting into the thigh of his jeans, and giving a tug.

“Daddy!” She removed her fingers from his jeans and slipped them around a couple of his fingers, tugging on his hand anxiously. He looked down to be met with her eyes, swimming with tears and her lips formed into a pout. Harry immediately dropped the knife he’d been using onto the cutting board.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s wrong? What’s the matter? C’mere.” He grunted as he lifted her up and settled her in the cradle of his elbow. He pet through her soft, wavy curls that just swept to her collar and kissed her forehead.

She clung to the collar of his henley and buried her face into his warm neck. Her spot, he liked to think of it as. She always seemed to land there. Even when she was a tiny baby. Somehow, she’d always nudge her way up to rest there.

He ran a palm down her back soothingly, still perplexed as to what was making her so upset. He pressed a few more kisses to her temple. “C’mere, I’ve gotcha. What’s making you so sad?” He caught a tear with his thumb that went skating down her full cheek.

“Daddy, Mumma’s crying,” she explained tearfully. His heart turned over inside his chest. He gave her a few more reassuring kisses before squeezing her tight and setting her down.

C’mon, let’s eat your lunch.” He took up her plate before getting down a bowl for her soup. He got her settled at the breakfast nook by the kitchen’s bank of windows, setting down the steaming bowl beside her plate.

“Daddy,” she whined again, voice distraught and features still pinched with concern. “Mumma’s crying, Daddy.”

Harry hushed her softly, stroking her hair and coaxing her to eat her lunch. “It’s okay. Daddy will go and see what’s wrong, okay? Eat your lunch, precious. I’ll be right back. No giving your apples to Alfie.” He cut his eyes over to the dog curled up beside the table and snoozing peacefully. “Those are for you.” He kissed her cheek. “How about we make some hot chocolate and snuggle up on the sofa and watch a film after you eat all of your lunch and I check on Mumma? Does that sound nice?”

Her cloudy eyes lit up, as she was munching on her toasty and she nodded through a mouthful.

Harry brushed off his hands and began his ascent up the stairs to the twins’ nursery. He could hear the shrill newborn cries sounding from behind the door that wasn’t quite closed. He could tell that both babies were wailing loudly in time with each other, and as he got closer, he could hear little sniffles mixed in. They’d been here not quite five weeks yet and with two newborns and a four year old, the house was never quiet for long. Though, Harry found himself liking it that way.