You've never seen true terror in Grog's eyes before now. His chest rises and falls quickly and his hands start to tremble.
"You okay, big guy?" You ask softly and reach out to touch his arm.
"Both hands! Both hands! What if you drop her?" He says his own hands rushing underneath the crook of your arm, ready to catch the newborn just in case.
"It's okay, Grog. See I have her head supported and I've got a good hold on the rest of her. She's not going anywhere." You say, showing him how you're holding the baby. "Now, back to my question, do you want to hold her?"
"She's so puny, look how skinny her legs are. Is she sick?" He asks, avoiding the question.
"No, this is just how newborns look," you laugh gently. "It'll take a few weeks for her to put on weight."
"Maybe I'll wait until then. She's so small and I don't want to hurt her." He says, his voice turns to barely a whisper. "My dad used to hurt me a lot, I don't want to hurt my kid too."
Your heart broke for him, he was always so full of laughter and joy, sometimes it was easy to forget how much trauma he'd endured. You wiggle your way down the bed giving him enough room to sit behind you.
"How about this, until you feel more comfortable, I'll hold her and you hold me." You offer and the fear melts away from his face.
"Yeah, that sounds good." He says quickly taking his place behind you. You lean back and he watches the baby from around your shoulder.
"You'll never hurt her the way your father hurt you. The fact that you care enough to worry means that you aren't anything like him." You say, "now, here, give me your hand."
You take it and bring it to the newborn's tiny hand. You watch Grog's face light up as his daughter grabs hold of his finger for the first time. He laughs, the sound is pure joy bubbling out of him.
"She's stronger than he looks!" He says, before correcting himself "but she doesn't need to be strong, I'll love her no matter what."
"She can hear you, you know, you could tell her that." You try to encourage.
"Hey, little one, I want you to know how much I love you. And that I never want you to be afraid of me. I want you to grow up happy and safe." His voice sounds tight and you turn your head to press a kiss against his cheek.
Hours have passed and you've spent it in bed pressed against Grog's chest as he stares lovingly at his daughter from behind you and tells her stories of all the adventures he's had.
You decide it's time to push him a little further, you get out of bed and tell him to put a pillow on his lap and hold out his hands. You gently lay her in his hands, she's small enough to fit in one of his large palms but he uses both to ensure she's firmly held in place.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom, keep her company while I'm gone." You say as you walk out the door. You feel a little guilty at the terrified look on his face but you know how gentle he could be and know he only needed some experience.
You return to find him cradling her against his chest, still a little wide-eyed with panic.
"She started fussing when you left, I thought she might have wanted to be held like you were holding her before."
"It seems like you were right," you say as you watch her eyes gently close, ready for a nap. "See, you're a natural at this."
After that Grog is eager for you to set her into his arms at any chance but doesn't have the confidence to attempt to pick her up himself for three days.
Pike comes over on the fifth day to check on everyone and brings a sling large enough to fit Grog's frame. She shows him how to tie it and slip the little one inside, comfortably swaddling her against her papa's chest. He still holds her against him. Not fully trusting the fabric to bear her weight.
You aren't concerned, he'd never let her fall.
