I saw it. That it was ours. That inside, waiting, was my family.
My Jenny Wren, and as of two and half months ago, my little Robyn.
I hurried up the steps, anxious to see my girls. Inside, music was playing, the soft beat echoing off the walls. I could hear Jenny singing, and I followed the sound to the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame, taking in the sight before me.
Jenny was leaning against the counter, singing to our daughter. My little girl, tiny and perfect, was in her carrier, staring up at her mommy, transfixed. She always did when Jenny sang. I crossed my arms, grinning. It was one of Jenny’s made-up songs. A frog in a log jumping high to the sky—funny little lines that made no sense but rhymed and made my daughter happy.
“I know you’re there,” Jenny sang, peeking over her shoulder. “I can feel your stare.”
I stepped forward, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning on her shoulder. I smiled down at Robyn, her blue eyes, so like mine, staring up at us. “How are my girls?” I murmured.
Jenny turned her head and kissed my cheek. “Good now you’re home.”
“Home for four days,” I murmured happily. “Four days of us time.”
“Yay!” Jenny cooed, bending close to Robyn. “Four days Mommy can sleep in!”
I laughed, knowing Jenny was teasing, although I planned on making sure she did get in some extra sleep time.
I nipped her neck then reached into the carrier, lifting Robyn out and cuddling her to my chest as Jenny stirred something on the stove.
“Something smells good.”
“I made a pot of potato soup, and I baked some muffins earlier. Robyn and I had a good day. We went for a walk, sat in the park and had coffee with Jackey, and I even got a nap.”
“Wow. You did have a good day.”
The first month after Robyn was born was a huge adjustment for us. She was a good baby, but she apparently felt the nights were made for playtime and cuddles, not sleeping. Both Jenny and I looked like the walking dead by week three, and I was worried about returning to work and how Jenny was going to be able to cope with a baby and only a nap or two during the day to get by. Then my mom came for a visit, and somehow, by the end of the week she spent with us, Robyn’s schedule had changed, and she was sleeping for almost six hours every night. The difference in Jenny was remarkable. As soon as Robyn was down for the night, so was Jenny. And when our daughter would nap, Jenny did too, and slowly a new routine evolved.
Jenny met my eyes, hers warm and happy. “She slept for seven hours last night. Seven hours of uninterrupted sleep. Then after I fed her, she went back to sleep for two more hours. And a whole hour nap today—twice. I had a nap this afternoon, and this morning I had a shower, sat on the sofa, actually read a little of my book, and drank a cup of coffee—while it was hot, Connor. Hot coffee. Has it always tasted that good?”
I laughed, nuzzling Robyn’s head. “You’ve been a good girl for Mommy.”
Jenny laughed and leaned up, pressing a kiss to my mouth, then one to Robyn’s head. “Maybe you’ll have a good night.” She winked lewdly. “If Daddy works his magic, you never know what will happen.”
I grinned. Robyn liked her baths, and I liked being the one to give them to her. My mom had shown me the trick of some lavender in the water to soothe and relax her, and then I gave her a little baby massage, talking quietly with the lights dim, followed by her last feeding, and hopefully, sleep.
And tonight, maybe, some alone time with Mommy. My body tightened at the thought.
It had been a while since that happened. We’d gotten the green light a few weeks ago, but Jenny was so tired and stressed, sex was the last thing on her mind. I had missed her, missed us, and if she was feeling better, I was happy to accommodate.
More than happy.
We had dinner, Robyn in her carrier, happy to gaze around, gurgling and kicking her feet. I told Jenny about the new schedule I had been given today at the lab. “Revolving days off. Three on and four off as usual. But every month, the day we start changes, which