The morning was quiet, sun seeped through the big window that overlooked your old neighborhood. Harry was slumped in a chair, hood pulled over his face when you pushed yourself upright in the bed. Everything hurt.
A nurse at the door smiled, offering a wave when she rolled in the hospital bassinet. "Just woke up," she said. "I think she's hungry."
You watched when she leaned in and picked her up, passing her over to you gently before letting her hand rest on the side of your bed. "Have you met with the lactation consultant yet?" Her voice was quiet, an unspoken pact between the two of you to not wake the sleeping celebrity on the other side of the room.
"Yeah," you nodded, "she came by last night. Or afternoon, I don't know."
It was all a blur, Jane came and there were tears and the two of you just sat there for a while, passing her back and forth and watching as she blinked and wriggled in your arms. People filed in and out: your mom, Lexi, Glenne and Jeff, they took turns leaning over her in the bassinet, watching as she slept. Nightfall came and sleep was calling, her cries throughout the dark hours were answered by both of you, rubbing your eyes when a nurse handed her over.
Now you looked down at Jane, her eyes were open, timid but curious when she looked over your face. "Hi honey," you said, reaching down to let your fingers feel the wispy hair on her head. "We can try again."
The nurse watched when you tugged the shoulder of the gown down, exposed your chest and positioned Jane to get a good angle. It took her a second, but she was quicker this time, you grimaced when she connected.
Harry stirred from the side of the room, cleared his throat when he sat up in the chair. The nurse took that as her cue to leave, a sweet smile when she slipped out the door, I'll be back to check on you in a bit.
"Hi," you said, your eyes glanced up to him quickly, back down at Jane when she pulled away from your chest.
"Hi," he said, the events from the day before suddenly lay on the sterile floor between you, heavy and lethargic when he stood and tried to stretch out the soreness.
"I told you that you didn't have to stay," you said, feeling bad for the way he squeezed his eyes shut when he rubbed at his neck, body likely aching from the inconvenient sleeping arrangement. They'd offered a cot, he declined.
"No, no," he shook his head and took a few steps closer to you. "M'fine, I wouldn't have left, obviously."
You were quiet for a second, he looked down at her, then brought his eyes back up as if he didn't know if he was allowed to watch the intimate moment. Suddenly, he looked unsure about a lot. You weren't clear what it meant when he kissed you. You didn't know what it meant when you cried in his arms from the pure emotion and exhaustion, and you definitely didn't know what to make of the way he looked at you now.
"How's it going?"
"You mean breastfeeding?"
He nodded, crossed his arms over his chest and looked around the room awkwardly.
"It's okay," you laughed a little, the tension broke like fog over the beach when you raised your eyebrows. "I'm exhausted and my body feels like it got hit by a truck."
"Yeah? Do you need to go back to bed? Do you want to tell my mom and sister that they should just head to their hotel when they land?"
"No," you shook your head. "It's fine. They can come."
He watched you for a second, almost like he didn't believe you or expected you to change your mind. When you didn't, he let out a breath and came to sit on the edge of the bed. You turned a bit, tried to offer him a better view without making your nipples feel like they were on fire.
He laughed when you made a face, "still the worst feeling ever?"
"Might be worse than giving birth," you laughed.
"I still can't believe one of the nurses said to brush your nipples with a toothbrush," his eyes were a bit wide, just as traumatized as he'd been the night before when the suggestion was offered.
"Makes sense, though," you shrugged, fighting the smirk on your face. "Roughen 'em up a little bit."
You sat there for a while in silence, both of you watching when she latched, pulled away, latched again. You'd never seen him look at someone like he looked at her: like everything in the entire universe was held in her blue eyes, safe and exciting. She started to cry, broke an arm free from the swaddle she'd been in.
"Here," he extended his arms to take her, the confidence in his eyes faltered when you let go, passed her over with ease. "How do I–is this okay?" He adjusted her head in the crook of his elbow, the other hand under her butt.
"Yeah," you nodded. "She can sense your nervousness, though."
"What do you mean?" He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, stress written on his face.
"Act confident and you'll feel confident, if you're anything but she'll feel it. It's like a baby's sixth sense."
"Huh," he looked down at her, bounced a bit at the knees to settle her. When she did, he turned around and brought her towards the window. Do you see the sky, Janey? See the blue? Mummy's old house is over there, his voice was soft when he spoke, barely a whisper when the door opened again.
Breakfast on a tray and you never ate so quickly in your life. Glenne and Jeff came back around ten, balloons in tow and hesitant smiles when they pushed the door open. Your mom had fluttered in and out a few times, went to Harry's to grab a different bra and another newborn onesie that sat, untouched, on top of the changing table for the last four weeks.
Nobody had held her yet, just your mom, Harry a few minutes after she was born. But now, Glenne watched you closely, the look in her eyes was greedy and excited when you passed her over, her lips curling into an emotional smile when she kissed her forehead. She's beautiful.
The flow of people through the door was constant, first just Glenne and Jeff, but Lexi came around lunch time, your mom was in pure helping mode. She'd grabbed food, got you a coffee, asked the nurses for more diapers, anything she could do to make it easier on you.
Anne and Gemma came after that, tears and smiles and a faint sense of belonging to a family that once felt like strangers. Nurses and doctors shuttled back and forth, eventually, the same hospital social worker who'd brought the birth certificate reappeared, talked to you about discharge and packing up your things.
You hadn't discussed it until she asked the night before, both of you looked to each other with uncertainty. And the last name?
Somehow it slipped through the cracks of preparation, hidden behind the importance of a first and middle name, crib color, paint samples, diaper genies. You could tell he sensed your panic, took a step forward.
L/N-Styles, he said, with a hyphen.
But you shook your head, challenged the fear that her life would be anything like yours, tugging around a last name that felt impersonal and disconnected, one of your only ties to the first man that broke your heart. Just Styles, you corrected, watching as the woman backspaced on her computer. He would never do that, right?
So you watched Glenne rock her back and forth, she passed her off to Lexi eventually and they all promised to come see you tomorrow once you were back home. You showered with the help of your mom, the door left open a crack to ease the nervousness in you about leaving Harry alone with her.
But he was fine. He got a wheelchair for you and brought up the stroller you'd picked out in Target. Going home with her alone, no help from hospital staff, felt only slightly terrifying. He joked in the elevator on the way down to the lobby: I can't believe they just let us take her like this. No training manual or anything.
Somehow the world didn't know, there were no photographers or people loitering around in the parking lot to get a glimpse at the little girl tucked in the carrier he had in hand. He'd set up the car seat with Jeff the night before, he said, cursing in the parking lot after they went to get you In N' Out. He teased you when he watched her sleep in the bassinet beside the hospital bed. Aren't the cravings supposed to stop now?
Now you sat with her in the backseat, watched her eyelids flutter when he headed for the house, stood with your hands in front of your face when he pulled the car seat from the car. "Be careful," you said, your voice quiet behind the closed gate. "Don't jiggle her too much."
"M'not jiggling her," he looked over at you, unimpressed.
He keyed into the house and your mom pulled in a few moments behind. Just let her stay with us for a bit, he'd told you the day before. We could use the help.
Maybe that's what felt so strange about all of this. Accepting help and offering it, a new level of symbiosis between you and Harry in the middle of the night when he showed up in your room a few days later.
"What's going on?" His eyes squinted in the light, his hair was messy and he stood just outside the room as if he wasn't allowed to come inside.
"I don't know," you said, the stress obvious in your voice. "I tried to feed her but she won't latch. It hurts so bad."
That seemed to wake him up, the desperation in your voice. "Okay, well, should you try the other?"
"The other boob?"
He nodded.
"I already did!"
"Well this is what we have the formula for, yeah?"
"I don't know," you said, tears stung your tired eyes. He was probably right. Doctor Ramirez, a pediatrician that Doctor Weston recommended, gave you plenty of take home sheets a few days earlier on how to introduce formula to make life easier. Breastfeeding isn't for everyone, she reassured you.
You'd given it to her a few times, small amounts to make sure her stomach would handle it alright. When Harry came to take a better look at the way she wailed, her tiny mouth open, her lungs on fire, he turned around and left you in the room.
You sat there, crying, trying to bounce her in your arms enough to soothe whatever she was feeling, uncomfortable with the incompetence that settled in the room around you. You were tired and scared and hungry–maybe she felt the same.
"Here," Harry reappeared with a tiny bottle in hand, the short and stout kind that Lexi had gifted you at your shower. He handed it over, you took it and tried to offer it, but she squirmed and screamed and turned her face away.
You looked up at him with fear in your eyes, he sat on the bed and opened his arms, silently asking to take her out of yours. You passed her over, shifted in the sheets and handed the bottle to him once she was settled. He held the bottle in front of her, hummed a bit to see if the noise would distract her from her own cries.
She must have felt the rubber nipple in her mouth, her lips clamped around it and sucked with force, a sigh from both of you when the quiet returned.
He watched for a second, kept humming when you looked up at him. "Thank you."
He nodded, didn't say anything in response and kept his eyes trained on her. You listened to the sounds he made and her heavy breathing, leaned your head back and closed your eyes.
Okay, fine, at least now you knew this was an option. Maybe she'd take better to a bottle and maybe it would make things less difficult. But the scary thing wasn't the formula or the screaming or the tiredness that made your limbs heavy. The scariest part was realizing you needed him.
**
When you woke the next morning, Jane had miraculously returned to the bassinet beside you. There was drool on your pillow, your neck stiff from sleeping half upright–apparently you'd fallen asleep before she even finished the bottle that now sat empty on the nightstand.
Harry was asleep beside you, above the covers with a safe distance between your bodies. You reached to wake him, hand on his shoulder. "Hey–wake up."
He stirred, a sharp intake of breath when he blinked a few times. "Hi, are you alright?"
"Yeah," you looked back at Jane, asleep and peaceful as the sun rose outside the window. "What happened?"
"You passed out, snored pretty loud, honestly."
You rolled your eyes, but he laughed and sat up beside you. "S'fine, m'glad you got some sleep."
"Did you?"
"Oh yeah," he nodded. "I put on the ocean waves sound and both of us were out in a few minutes."
"Really? She liked that?"
"Like father, like daughter, I guess."
You were quiet for a second, leaned over to look at her again. Small and peaceful and somehow yours.
His voice was quieter now, the words broke free in a gentle whisper, careful not to disturb the quiet morning air in your guest room down the hall. "Kind of weird, right?"
You nodded. All of it was weird, but you knew he was referring to the baby beside you that a year ago would have sounded like a cruel joke.
"I can't believe we have a child," the words fell out of your mouth, clunky and awkward.
"I still can't believe they don't give you a manual."
You laughed at that, looked over at him and made a face, unable to fight the smile when he reached an arm over and tugged you towards him. It was quick, only a few seconds until you pulled away from his warmth and his scent.
He stood from the bed and looked around the room awkwardly, neither of you wanted to address the fact that he'd slept in here. "I'll–uh–I can make breakfast," he offered.
"Yeah," you said. "That'd be great."
He left you alone, headed for the kitchen with an awkward smile over his shoulder. You showered when your mom offered to watch her, she sat in your room and talked to you through the crack in the door. You fed her again and by the time you brought her downstairs, he had eggs plated on the counter and a glass of orange juice poured for you–with pulp, of course.
It wasn't long before you found yourself seated on the couch, exhausted from being upright for more than ten minutes. Another feed while you watched the news around noon, Harry did his best to assemble the second changing table your mom suggested you keep downstairs.
You won't want to go up there every single time you have to change her, she reasoned. The mylar balloons Glenne had brought hovered above it, It's a Girl!
Jeff showed up in the afternoon, a few things for Harry to finalize before tour whisked him away in another three and a half months: a date that simultaneously felt miles away and like it slowly suffocated you by coming closer with each breath.
They were hunched over the computer in Harry's office when Jane let out a wail from the living room. You'd been texting Simone back, you told her that next week you'd find a day for her and Aarav to stop by.
You were up within seconds–your mom had run to the store to get a few things for dinner–and Harry was on his feet quickly, too.
"I've got her," you said, beating him to the motorized swing that had once lulled a quiet Jane to sleep. Now, her screams echoed through the house with force and Jeff came from the office with wide eyes.
"I can help," Harry said it quickly, hovered over your shoulder when you pulled her up and into your arms.
"You're working," you spit it out automatically, not wanting to be in the way of whatever impromptu meeting this was currently interrupting.
"I'm not," he shook his head and followed you towards the kitchen.
"Fine, then go get another pacifier," you said, turning around and offering him a forced smile. She shook in your arms and her little face was red, Harry apparently needed more direction than that. "Upstairs."
"In the guest room? Your room?"
You nodded, ignored the fumble in his words and pulled the lid off the formula. Jeff, who was now at the counter with thumbs hovered over his phone, watched Harry climb the stairs two steps at a time. He looked out of place, but you ignored the way he watched you fumble.
"Do you need help?" He asked, his eyes followed your left hand as it tried to scoop the powder into the bottle.
"Can you hold her?"
He hesitated at that, put his phone down and let his lips part as if he was about to refuse.
"You're fine, please, just take her for a second."
You turned around and handed her over to him before he could consent, quick into overtime once she was out of your arms. Another scoop, you shook the bottle and turned around, surprised to see Jeff staring down at Jane, who was remarkably less noisy now. She still cried, but her wails had turned to whimpers and for some reason, you had a feeling that the face Jeff was making at her had something to do with it.
You stilled for a second, Harry bounded back down the stairs and also came to a halt when he saw the interaction happening.
"You're a natural," he said with a laugh, the pacifier was in his hands and he tried to catch his breath while he watched his friend.
"She definitely doesn't hate me," Jeff admitted, looking between the two of you. "That's good."
"Why would she hate you?" You asked.
He shrugged, "I'm probably the one who was the shittest to you when you were pregnant. Didn't know if maybe she'd get bad vibes from me." His bluntness caught you off guard, you looked over to Harry, who's brows had also climbed up his forehead.
Silence for a second.
"I know I was a dick a lot of the time," he nodded again, held a hand out for the bottle that was still in your grasp. You handed it over to him, shocked by his willingness to feed her. He was hesitant for a second, looked at you for an encouraging nod. "But I'm sorry–it's hard to imagine anything being different now."
You were stunned to silence, let your lips part and close a few times as Jane happily sucked away at the bottle he held, Harry dropped the pacifier on the counter and pushed his lips out in thought. When you made eye contact with him, he shrugged.
**
The nights looked like that for a while, she'd wake up and Harry would come stumbling in, half asleep and concerned. Breastfeeding was less impossible in the evening for whatever reason, bottles were an easy choice if the early morning hours left you feeling too stressed and anxious.
Dr. Ramirez had assured you that this was fine, as long as you breastfed her a few times a week to keep your milk supply balanced. Her second appointment was fine, Harry was more anxious than you were about putting her on the cold metal scale to get her updated weight.
He drove and made nervous eye contact with you through the rearview mirror, much like the drive home from the hospital. A week and a half down, forever to go, he said one night on the patio. Unusually warm, your mom offered to give Jane her last bottle after you'd finished dinner and the sun crept below the horizon.
He sat there across from you, eyes on his phone when you put your feet up on the chair your mom had occupied only a few moments before. "Thanks for making me let her stay."
He looked up, eyebrows arched after a second when he smirked. "Figured it'd be a good idea."
"Yeah, I'm exhausted even with her help, so–it was a good call."
He nodded, let a breeze dance through the backyard when he reached for the glass of water he'd nursed through dinner.
"You can drink now, you know."
"Huh," he tilted his head to the side and pushed out his lips in thought. "I guess I can."
"Why aren't you sprinting the fridge for a beer?" You laughed.
He shrugged. "You can drink too, right?"
"I mean–if I bottle feed her, yeah. Or pump and dump, right?"
He was quiet for a second after he nodded, the evening air made you feel the most relaxed you'd felt yet. You weren't sure if you were getting the hang of it, or if a moment without her in your arms left you feeling more centered than you expected.
She wasn't clingy, if anything she was fine being left in the bassinet when you folded your laundry. She'd be happy to sit in the swing and watch Harry cook, though you were more convinced she just liked the sound of his voice when he explained the recipes to her step by step.
"You owe me."
"What?" You looked back over at him, pulled back to the night air.
"I didn't drink," he laughed. "I won the bet."
You rolled your eyes. "I wasn't really part of that bet," you reminded him. "Jeff and Glenne were the ones who really started it."
"You're the one who first planted the idea in my head that I shouldn't drink," he reminded casually.
"I was hormonal and deprived," you giggled. "Sue me."
"Sleep in my room."
"What?"
"That's what I want since I won."
Quiet. Upstairs, you imagined your mom holding Jane in the rocking chair and singing the same song she used to sing to you.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" He asked it seriously, no attitude, no anger, just curiosity.
You sighed. You were about to open your mouth to tell him, but he shook his head.
"No–I don't–it's fine. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable with."
The air felt thick suddenly, the patio was less relaxing than it was only moments earlier. "I should go up there," you said quietly. "She'll be done soon and I'll put her down."
He nodded but didn't make eye contact, let his eyes sweep the backyard before you slipped inside the sliding door. Sweet and foolish, all at once, your heart ached as you climbed the stairs and even worse when you fell asleep by yourself that night.
**
Harry was stood in front of the diaper table, a determined look on his face when Jane wiggled on top of the pink padding.
"You'll be fine," you reassured him.
"Last time it was so bad though. You were in the shower, you didn't see it."
You fought off a giggle, "well you told me all about it."
"It was up her back, Y/N, I mean it." The look on his face was comical, you waved him off and urged him to continue.
He was nervous, certain he'd done something wrong after it had leaked out. But this time he took the diaper off with more confidence, gave you a look that screamed I told you so when the contents of her diaper had crawled up her back a bit.
"You're better than before," you commented, your arms were crossed over your chest when he held her feet together and wiped between her legs.
"Practice makes perfect," he said with a cocky shrug. "I watched youtube videos, too."
You didn't mean to clutch at your heart, but apparently there were just as many hormones running through you postpartum as there were in the middle of your pregnancy.
"What?" He laughed, looked back at you over his shoulder.
"That's just really cute."
"Well I didn't know if we had the right size diapers. Clearly we didn't, cause when I got those new ones she was fine. But this one you put on her made it happen again."
"Okay, well, you're right, then. We'll use those."
A smug smile lit up his face. He leaned down and pressed a thousand kisses onto Jane's face. "You hear that, Janey? Mommy actually admitted that daddy did something right."
You laughed, stepped forward and let your hand rest on her head. He poked you in the stomach and smiled, pulling laughter from your belly and butterflies from their cage inside of you.
It was the same giggling a few days later when you were both leaned over her in the bathroom. A sponge bath, he brought the washcloth over from the sink and it dripped on her forehead. "Don't get it in her eyes," you said seriously, the stress audible in your voice when he laughed.
"It's water, she'll be alright."
"I'm serious!"
"Me too," he flicked water at you, still on his hand. You rolled your eyes and pulled away from him. "See? You're okay, too."
You were mad for a second, looked down at the blue eyed baby that stared up at you, but it didn't last. You let out a laugh and took the washcloth.
"Sometimes daddy's an idiot," you looked down at Jane. "Mommy just doesn't want him to blind you."
"Sometimes mommy gets too nervous," he cooed back at her.
"No she's not," you told Jane.
"She's a liar, too," Harry teased.
You reached over and shoved him, finding it impossible to fight the smile that crept onto your face. "I don't mean to be obnoxious. I'm just cautious."
"Hey, it's been almost two weeks and we've kept her alive. I think we're doing alright," he nodded.
He was right. So far nothing had gone wrong. You were tired and somehow managing to run on only a few hours of sleep, but she was eating and pooping as expected. Harry would sit with her in the morning and have a cup of coffee, you'd lay beside her on the floor sometimes and just watch her look around. She was blinking and following you with her eyes when you danced around in front of her and sang stupid songs.
She was hiccuping and sneezing every so often, sounds that had both of you frozen for a few seconds in fear that something was happening. Then she'd look fine and let out a sigh and your mom would laugh at the nervous energy that had taken up residence alongside the newborn that still slept in the guest room beside you.
And now when you switched off the light in the room and climbed into the cool sheets, reassured by the even breathing from her tiny lungs, a part of you wished that the physical wall separating you and Harry was the only wall that kept you apart.