Breathe in Breathe out

She was so quiet, and it worried him. He had never had to wonder if Isobel was still breathing- the child was constantly making happy little noises, seeking a response to her sound. It had been encouraging, because he’d never been scared that she was going to die on him. Christian had never been a problem, either. As an infant, he’d been constantly moving, even in his sleep. Even in Madeline’s womb, there had been near-constant movement for the last month- once the babies had been born, everyone had assumed that the little mover and shaker had been Christian. His own son, Jake, had been a combination of the two, humming and moving, albeit neither one as fast as his older siblings. But then there was Ainsley, and she just watched him with those big brown eyes of hers.

In the night, there was never the rustling sound of movement coming through the baby monitor, never the reassuring sound of a whimper, or a hum. Madeline just smiled at him, and told him that not all babies were so vocal. Her own little sister hadn’t made many noises as a newborn, and Ainsley probably wouldn’t, either. It didn’t keep him from worrying, and often he would get up in the night, to go and check on his little girl. There was some sort of driving instinct that pushed Jonathan to look after his little girl. He would steal into the room she shared with her brother, lay his large hand lightly on her chest, just to feel the rise and fall of her chest. Sometimes, he would pick her up, and cradle her against his own chest, waiting for the small flutter that was her steady heartbeat. She occasionally woke up, though she never cried. Now and then she would jerk in surprise, and sometimes whimper, but she never cried out.

Her brown eyes would look into his face, and Jon would wait for the moment when recognition set in. It was odd, how babies worked. Izzy had only ever needed to hear the sound of her parents’ voices, and she knew them. Christian seemed to know by the very way that they held or touched him. Jake was unusual, he always just seemed to know. But Jon had to admit, he liked it when Ainsley had to look into his face, and watch it for a moment before lighting up, in recognition that Daddy was the one holding her.

Tonight was a bad night, filled with worries and nightmares, and concerns. It seemed that holding his little daughter while she fell back asleep was as soothing for him as it was for her, and he sat in the living room for a long time, watching the delicate face, discerning the little blue veins on her eyelids, the way her little mouth pursed, and the deep and steady rise and fall of her chest. It was nights like this that reminded Jon of why he’d wanted a large family, so that there was enough love and comfort to go around several times. He was looking forward to his little girl growing up and becoming a grown woman. For now, however, he was content to sit here, and old his little girl.