My eyes slowly flutter open, looking around the small dark room I wonder if it had all been a dream. It sure seemed like a dream, a nightmare at times. But it all seemed so real? I think to myself. I hear a shuffling noise from the corner and smile to myself sitting up quickly. I look to the corner expecting to see my husband trying but failing to creep in quietly after a late night practice but am greeted by something completely different. Not a door but a recliner by a window, where another familiar face sleeps soundly.

And then it hits me like a ton of bricks, I lie back slowly. I'm not at home; I'm in the hospital. Memories of the past nine months quickly fill my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and open them again to make sure it's real. As I look around the room to try and make things out, I see the four people who'd saved me both physically and mentally.

A tear absently falls down my cheek as I look over them; each had been through so much. They are the strongest people I have ever met. We had each seen each other in times of happiness, denial, pain, depression, hope, love and much more these past nine months. Somehow we all made it here in one piece. Losing a loved one is the most painful experience someone can go through. Especially when that person is you're best friend, husband, or father. We had each unfortunately learned that first hand.

I look over each of them, stopping at the little girl peacefully sleeping in her father's warm arms on the small coach. My baby will never have that. I then quickly glance to the small crib near the wall, my baby. I stand up slowly trying not to wake the others, tiptoeing towards the crib. I smile knowing what lies in it, but am taken back when it's empty. I gasp, trying to think, where's my baby? Is there something wrong? I—. My panicked thoughts are interrupted by a small whimper from the corner. I look back to the recliner and find him, in the arms of the familiar faced man. The man stirs awake and looks at me.

We both smile at one another.

"He was crying earlier," he says cradling my tiny baby tightly. The sight is still funny to me, a tough guy with a weakness for babies. "Blaine and Abby had finally passed out. You were snoring like a grizzly. So I took the liberty of getting this guy here back to sleep," he whispers finishing it off with one of those million dollar smiles.

"I do not snore like a grizzly Noah," I say as he stands and brings the little bundle to me.

"Oh yes you do. Believe me, the four of us had a full on conversation about it earlier," he says as I take the bundle in my arms beginning to slowly cradle him back and forth.

"No you didn't," I laugh, "Abby would never do that, she loves me," I comment sticking my tongue out.

"She's a pretty good actress, just like her dad," he quickly corrects himself, "Well I mean dads."

And then silence, reality seeps back into our minds as we remember two people are missing from this picture.

"You know…" he starts slowly, "He already looks like him," Noah says looking down at the sleeping boy.

I stutter slightly, "I— I know. I wish he could have been here. He knew it was going to be a boy," I laugh lightly, "We made a bet the day I told him I was pregnant. I insisted that we not 'bet' on the sex of our unborn child, but you know Finn. If it was a girl, we'd go to New York and see at least 4 musicals on Broadway," I laugh remembering how Finn had thought it up all by himself.

"And if it was a boy?" Noah asks smirking.

"If it was a boy… we… we'd go on a road trip. Just the three of us, our little family," I don't even realize I'm crying until I feel Noah leading me to the hospital bed and helping me sit down.

I wipe my eyes as my breathing begins to become controllable again.

"I m— miss him… s— so much," I hiccup trying to settle down, leaning my head against Noah's chest as he sits next to me.

"I know, I miss him too," he coos softly, "We all do. It's a shame this little guy won't get to meet him. But we'll get through it together. You've got the four of us."

I want to thank him for the billionth time but I can't. Words won't form, thoughts won't stay still. I simply lean closer into his embrace

I want to thank all of them, but I know that even if I could get a coherent sentence out at the moment, there is no thank you big enough in the world. Nine months ago we were close but nothing like today. I think the only way for you to truly understand is by starting at the beginning. July of last year…