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Junie Hollander-Rozanov had just reached seven months old when she got her first ear infection. Ilya had clocked immediately that morning when instead of normally going straight for her breakfast - Ilya had made her pancakes cut into strips, fruit, an egg, most of it would end up in the floor for Anya - she took one look at the plate and her big brown eyes found Ilya’s, her papa, and filled with big crocodile tears.
“What is wrong, pancakes not good enough?” He offered her a bite, and when she turned her head he offered her a straw cup with water, something fancy Shane had insisted they get to help her palate development (Ilya had no idea how a seven month old was supposed to learn how to use a straw, but here she was). “No pancakes, no water! Are you not feeling well?” Ilya knew she wouldn’t respond, but being the primary caretaker of the baby he’d learn all of her little clues. And within seconds, she reached a chubby hand to pull on her ear.
He called Yuna first, who told him plainly that he should take her to the doctor, likely an ear infection. Very common in the cold winter months for an Ottawa baby. Ilya thought to bundling her up for their daily walks - carefully pulling her snowsuit over her ears.
Shane insisted on coming home from the game he was supposed to be playing, booked on the first flight out to come home and be with his family. Ilya had retired to take care of Junie while Shane still played hockey. Ilya wondered if this was Junie’s way of telling Shane to come home, be with them as a family. Shane wasn’t absent, not even in the slightest, but Junie loved both of her parents and had picked up on one being gone.
Hours later, long after the sun had gone down, Shane clicked the door shut and shushed Anya - clearly not expecting Shane to be home so early in the season. Ilya was perched on the couch, baby monitor in hand as his brow was furrowing a deep wrinkle between his eyes. Shane was glad he made the call to come home. Shane rushed to Ilya, placing a hand on his shoulder and then kissing his forehead.
“She’s been asleep for a few hours, I figure she will make up for bottle soon,” Ilya said, peering over at the coffee table where several bottles lay strewn about. And then of course the burp rag thrown over the side of the couch, every baby containment device they had in the living room. It was obvious she had not gone down without a fight. “She’s stubborn, like you, when she doesn’t feel well. Doesn’t understand I’m trying to help her,” Shane smiled sadly down at Ilya.
“She can feel your stress,” Shane tutted - sounding just like Yuna now. Since the birth of Junie, Ilya had begun to act a lot like Shane. Routines, monotony, methodical processes. Down to the way he would put the baby’s bottle in the warmer before turning on the bath tub for a bath. Rubbing her down with expensive baby lotion to keep her skin moisturized in the cold winter months. Dabbing Vaseline on her wind-chapped cheeks. It read completely as Shane, he was if not more neurotic over the tiny human who had infiltrated their lives months ago. She’d come home at six days old, the tiniest thing Ilya had ever seen.
Ilya leaned into the touch of Shane, missing him fiercely since leaving for the season. They knew this would be the hardest part - luckily Shane had great parents in their corner - but it didn’t soften the blow of Ilya waking up multiple times a night to soothe Junie - Junie who loved Ilya, her papa, dearly but wanted Shane, dada.
As if on cue, a sharp cry rang from the monitor as Junie awoke. She soothed herself quickly - she was remarkably intelligent for a baby - but soon she streamed out a “Dadadada!” in quick succession. “She is mad at you, she told me,” Ilya laughed.
“I guess I’ll go speak with the boss - you look like you could use a shower.” Shane offered, hoping Ilya would take this time to take care of himself. Shane wouldn’t even blame Ilya if he stepped into the cold to have a cigarette - of course as long as he washed his hands before seeing the baby.
“Heard,” Was all Ilya replied with, quickly grabbing dirty bottles to throw in the sink before going off.
Shane tiptoed to the door, hearing the gurgled sound of his baby girl talking to herself in her crib. Her fingers must’ve found her mouth, she was a thumb sucker, the way the string of “Dadada, papapa,” shifted back and forth, mumbled. He stepped in and turned the lamp on, before having a big goofy smile for his baby who was rolling around.
“Hi sweetheart, Dada’s home,” He whispered to her, and she met him with a big, gummy grin. Two pearly bottom teeth had just come through her bottom gums. Just as quickly as it went away, she fussed and reached for him. He unzipped her sleep sack and picked her up, grabbing her soother on the way up.
“It’s okay baby, I’m here. Papa is showering. You don’t feel good?” Junie rubbed her snotty nose into Shane’s shoulder. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt. Shane went to grab her bottom, trying to decide if she needed a fresh diaper or not. She felt dry and he sent out to the bathroom to ask when she last had medicine.
Ilya smiled form the foggy shower at seeing his husband and daughter. He thought back to the showers they took together with the baby, passing the slippery baby back and forth, keeping her warm in the stream of water. He wiped the condensation off the glass.
“Ilya, when did she last have medicine?”
“Hmm,” Ilya thought, reaching for the shampoo bottle, “She had her last dose about three hours ago, so she is probably ready for more. There is… what is it called… Motrin? On the counter,” Shane appreciated how much Ilya cared.
Shane took the baby back into the kitchen where he got her bottle ready and then deposited the correct dosage for her of her medicine straight into the bottle - a trick Yuna had shown them early on when Junie had to have medicine. While they waited for the bottle to warm, Junie had wedged her head deep into Shane’s neck, thumb in her mouth and finger curled around her nose. Her other hand still had a fistful of Shane’s shirt. As much as he hated the habit, there was nothing sweeter than his baby girl soothing herself like this. So trusting of Shane and Ilya.
Junie took her bottle like a champ before getting restless again. She fought Shane’s arms, but also clung to him. Shane held her close, first walking around her bedroom before resigning to his and Ilya’s also littered with baby things. Shane had knew that Ilya would most likely let Junie sleep in their bed once Shane left, evident by the absence of pillows on Shane’s side of the bed and the bassinet they hadn’t used since she was a few months old was pressed against the side of the bed, protecting her from a fall. Shane would normally argue about safe sleep, worrying about Ilya rolling over her, but he knew better. Junie was just fine.
He sat on Ilya’s side of the bed, the only with two pillows against the wooden headboard, and settled Junie against his chest and pulling the comforter up over them both. Junie had swapped her thumb for a pacifier, much easier to keep in her mouth. Her eyes dozed against Shane’s Metro’s t-shirt.
It wasn’t long and Ilya was back in the room, clad in only pajama pants and put pillows back on the bed and slipped next to Shane. Their baby girls dark hair was messy like Shane’s in the morning, never able to calm it no matter how much water they put in it.
“She’s been a very good girl for me,” Ilya admitted. “Sorry for freaking out, she was crying and I didn’t know what to do,” He thought back to a few hours earlier when Ilya couldn’t get her to calm down and Shane instructed him to put the baby in her crib and step outside. Ilya was doing this mostly alone at times. Shane knew he would snap at some point.
Shane hadn’t thought twice about it, but he could see Ilya was ruminating over it. “You are doing this alone, you have to give yourself patience.” Ilya nodded. Yuna and David had been excellent, but Ilya was determined to do this on his own. Junie was not a hard baby.
“Your mom helps,” Ilya admitted. “But you just have a special touch with her,”
Shane did, there was no arguing. Ilya liked to think it was that Shane thought like Junie would. When she would get inconsolable he would pull all her clothes off, rubbing softly over her skin in case she had an itch. None of her clothes had tags in them. Shane methodically bought baby clothes that were baggy, not skin tight because he couldn’t imagine being in something uncomfortable and not being able to take it off.
“She loves you so much Ilya,”
“I love her more than I ever thought possible.” That’s when Ilya leaned onto Shane’s arm and closed his eyes.