Pollie Scavo, a beautiful little baby girl, was born with her father's eyes and her mother's blonde hair.

Patrick Scavo, a handsome baby boy, was born with his father's smile and his mother's indomitable will.


The tubes and wires underscored the reality of their baby boy's illness: he had a brain contusion since his mother had fallen, he had a restricted air pipe after the cord had been wrapped around his neck, and whatever else could have gone wrong, did.

"How is he doing?"

"Lynette!—" She startled Tom, who had been standing at the windows of the NICU nursery. "What are you doing out of your room?"

She had walked up behind him. Pressing her hand against the glass right next to his, she leaned closer, immediately finding her new twins.

"I'm fine." She blurted, disregarding that she had just given birth – twice -- and then traveled by herself from Maternity to NICU. "But Patrick – have they said anything?"

Tom chewed on that question, it was almost laughable at how little they were being told. He said, "I overheard some nurses saying how bad they felt for us. It doesn't sound good, honey."

"Well, I knew that. They're not telling us anything, they're not letting us be with him. We're his parents; we should be allowed to be with him, especially if this is it."

"Don't say that."

"What am I supposed to say?" She fired back. She was feeling so guilty, and it showed on her lined face. "He's sick, and it's all my fault, and I can't even do anything about it."

"Lynette, none of this is your fault."

"Yes it is." Lynette inhaled, "I had wished I had never gotten pregnant. I said all of those horrible things. And worse, I meant every single word I said. I can't take it back. I can't un-wish this. I just wish I could make him better."

"Nothing you said made him this way. Nothing." Tom said, prying her away from the glass. He held onto her shoulders, and could feel them trembling under his hands.

"Who are you kidding?" Her voice cracked. Her eyes lowered, "I ruined his life. If he even has one."

"Don't write him off. If he's anything like you, he'll pull through. You'll see."

She wasn't sure if she could believe her husband. But she knew he was trying to be supportive, and she loved him for that. Lynette sighed, defeated. "I'd give anything for him to live. It's not fair."

"I don't think that's in our hands anymore, honey." Tom said, and let go of her shoulders so that they could go back to looking into the nursery.

They spotted their babies, one in a pink knit hat and the other in blue. Pollie was healthy, a perfect beauty and equally resembled both of her parents. She was asleep in a bassinet next to Patrick's incubator, swarmed with tubes, drips, drugs, and whatever else. His breathing was haggard, and obviously a struggle.

"No, it's really not." She agreed to herself. It felt inevitable. The poor baby was sick, really sick. And they both could see how bad it was.

She turned her back, leaning against the window. Tom looped his arms around her, and for a moment, they relaxed in each other's embrace. Tom kissed into Lynette's hair, when he noticed Dr. Crane traveling around in the nursery.

Dr. Crane came out into the hall, "Ms. Scavo, you're up?"

Ignoring the question, Lynette immediately unwrapped from the hug with her husband. "Our baby – how is he?"

"I'm afraid no different, and there's not much we can do right now."

"Well, do anything. Please. Save our son!"

"Doing anything more would be a big risk." The doctor explained. "I think now all we can do is let nature run it's course."

Tom grimaced. "What does that mean? You're giving up on him?"

"He's very weak; we have to be sure he gains strength before we can do anything else. But I don't see any improvement in strength yet."

Lynette felt like she had been punched in the chest, because for a moment she would swear she couldn't breathe. Tom, sensing her weakness, held on to her. "Oh.. my god.. We're losing him, aren't we?"

"Its possible he won't see tomorrow." Dr. Crane slowly told them. "Right now all I can say to you is that you should go be with him, and your daughter, and start hoping for a miracle."

Her already weepy heart throbbed. One of the babies she had never really admitted to wanting was terminal. Tears were glassing her tired eyes. While losing one baby, she'd have the permanent reminder of the other for the rest of her life.

Dr. Greene entered the nursery and Tom trailed behind. His sad eyes lured her, and then he was gone. How could this new little world of theirs already be falling apart? She couldn't handle that answer, so she turned around, and began towards the elevator.


TBC...?