A/N: Hey, guys. Long time, no see?

For those of you who don't already know, I've completely let go of the show. I can't watch it anymore, and I can't reconcile the ship I see on it with the ship I fell in love with many moons ago. I honestly thought I'd never write Spoby again, but then I realized there's a part of their story I hadn't told yet. The Spoby in my head, I mean. Not the Spoby on the show. Heads up: none of the characters in this story are the ones that are now being portrayed on the show.

This story will be four chapters long, and has been on the surface of my mind for literal years. It might be my last story. It might not. I can't predict the future, and unfortunately, I can't make any promises.

Thank you for sticking with me. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't, but I can't express how much I've appreciated the support and for that I'll always be grateful.


A Fortunate Stroke Of Serendipity

Chapter One: "We have a secret in our culture, and it's not that birth is painful. It's that women are strong." – Laura Stavoe Harm

When Spencer was eight years old, she decided she was never having children.

Nothing about crying infants or stinky diapers appealed to her. Babies were gross, she concluded. They were noisy and they were gross, and she never wanted one in her house when she grew up.

When she announced her decision at dinner a few days later, her parents laughed. They said she was sure to feel differently when she was older. Before Spencer could open her mouth to protest, they had moved on to other things and were congratulating Melissa for making the honor roll.

And so, Spencer was left alone with her thoughts. Years passed, and her decision did not waver. What did change, very gradually, was the reason behind this vehement conviction. It was no longer because babies disgusted her. It was that parenthood didn't seem like something she'd be any good at. Small kids made her uncomfortable. She didn't know how to talk to them. She didn't know how to make them laugh. And worse of all, she didn't know how to ease their minds when they were hurt or afraid. Humans under the age of thirteen were a huge mystery to Spencer, and she found herself avoiding them at all costs.

The older she got, the more she realized her own upbringing probably had a lot to do with it. She would spend time at Hanna or Emily or Aria's house, and it could occur to her that if she had a mother like theirs she might feel differently. Spencer didn't know how to be a mom. She didn't know how to be nurturing. She wasn't sure if her own mother even knew.

The idea of failing at motherhood somehow scared her even more than the idea of failing at all other things.

When she was sixteen, she fell in love for the first and final time. It changed her. It smoothed out the chip on her shoulder. It shifted something inside her that never shifted back, and it made room for a depth of emotions she never thought she'd ever experience. Toby Cavanaugh was her polar opposite in some ways, and the other half of her soul in others.

But one thing he did not alter was the inability to see herself as a mother.

They grew together, Toby and her. They fought their hardships, and there were many. They made it through, bruised and battered but somehow still intact. They fled Rosewood – Spencer first, and Toby following her just a few weeks later once he got his affairs in order. They never looked back.

She did dorm rooms for a few years before assuring Toby that she'd had it with her college experience and begging him to let her move into his apartment with him. She did grad school. She thrived. She watched her boyfriend thrive with equal measure. Her life was finally going the way she wanted it to.

And still, her resolve did not falter.

She looked at Toby and felt immense guilt sometimes. She knew he would make an exceptional father. Her boyfriend wasn't much of a people person but he had a way with young children and animals that she could only dream of. All he had to do was smile and they had to be pried away from him by their parents and owners. Spencer would watch, feeling like an outsider, stuck between admiration and slight envy of this gift of his.

He knew of her reservations. He knew the thought of motherhood frightened her, and that the chances of her ever desiring it were very slim. He asked her to marry him anyway, but she had to make sure. She knew it was at the risk of losing him forever, but somehow the thought of him growing to resent her was even more unbearable.

His face contorted into something slightly painful when she hesitantly brought it up one night as they crawled in bed. He reached for her hand, deep in thought. He was formulating his response carefully in his head, she knew, and despite everything it made her smile slightly. He was so precise with his words. It was one of the many things she loved about him.

"I understand your reasons," was all he finally said, her heart sank a little.

"But you feel differently." It wasn't a question, and she wondered how these words were coming out of her mouth so calmly.

He shook his head in indecision, clasping her hand tighter in both of his. He met her eyes and she felt herself breathe a little easier when she saw the endless goodness in his baby blues.

"I want a life with you," he spoke quietly. "If that includes kids, great. But if doesn't… that's okay, too. You're still the one I want to be with, Spencer. I'd never want you to think you're not enough for me."

It brought her peace, his words. She didn't take for granted what an extraordinary thing it was to be given such freedom, and it made her feel invincible in some moments and grateful, oh so grateful, in others. And oddly enough, she caught herself wondering in the next few months. Just, theoretically, what a child of theirs might look like. Which name they would decide on. If it would be feisty like her or gentle like Toby.

Not long after they got married, her friend Hanna announced that she was pregnant. It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Unlike Spencer, Hanna had always known she was going to be a mom one day and had always been very open and straightforward about it. But somehow it caught Spencer off guard anyway. And over the months, Hanna got bigger. She had a glow that radiated off her, and Spencer honestly had never seen her friend happier.

Predictably, motherhood fit Hanna like a glove. It was very obvious from the day her daughter was born, and Spencer and Toby visited her in the hospital. Caleb seemed rather awkward and clumsy with their tiny newborn, but Hanna looked like she'd been doing this her entire life. She was the perfect combination of warm and caring but not overbearing in the slightest. In fact, she dumped the baby in Spencer's arms a mere five minutes after they'd arrived.

"Here. Hold her for me while I go pee."

And Spencer looked at the infant in her arms, flabbergasted and slightly uncomfortable until she saw Hanna's nose and chin. Caleb's dark eyes. Ashley's fiery red hair. And everything around her went quiet for a while.

To her own surprise, Spencer was unprepared when Hanna took the baby back, but she was even more unprepared for the abundance of feelings that would overflow her when her friend placed the child in Toby's arms instead. Her breath hitched, her heart skipped beat and then warmed up like a furnace then ached, so fiercely ached, because if she'd ever doubted it before it was crystal clear now that her husband was meant to be someone's father.

During the first year of Rylee's life, Spencer found herself making regular visits to the Rivers' home. She found herself taking interest in Hanna's new life. She didn't mind stories of breastfeeding and interrupted sleep. She found herself feeling genuine affection – love, even – for the tiny human her friend was raising. She had infinite respect and admiration for the grace in which Hanna handled the struggles, and even though she strongly felt she would never live up she found herself maybe wanting to try. Someday.

She couldn't bring herself to tell Toby until she was completely sure. It seemed cruel to have him get his hopes up only to have them crushed if it turned out she didn't want it after all. But over and over, it dawned on her that she wouldn't even be contemplating the option of children if he wasn't the one she was married to. Having children still didn't particularly appeal to her – it was having children with him that did.

Hanna and Caleb threw a party for Rylee's first birthday, and Spencer made her decision as she watched the happy couple stare at their child lovingly as she tore into her birthday cake. She saw a different child, a different man, and herself… and suddenly it became something she desperately wanted.

"Just one," she begged Toby later that evening. "I can't promise I'll ever want more than one because… because if I suck at this at least I'll only mess up one. But I want it. I want to have a baby with you."

She couldn't get any more out because suddenly his arms were around her and he had lifted her off her feet and he was placing kiss after kiss against her lips and somehow they were both laughing.

Toby assured her that he wasn't in a rush but Spencer had been mulling it over in her head for so long that it strangely didn't make sense to hold off anymore, so they didn't. She never expected to conceive so soon, and the day her pregnancy test came back positive she nearly threw up just from the mere idea that in nine short months she would be someone's mom. Doubt clouded her joy more than she would have liked in that moment, until Toby came home and his blissful expression erased all her negativity.

They were going to be parents. As odd as it sounded to her own ears, she couldn't be happier.


Toby glanced at his wife while they were halted at a red light. She had barely spoken a word since they left the doctor's office. He'd watched her go pale at the newest revelation in their pregnancy. He'd felt the grip on his hand first tighten almost painfully and then lose all its firmness until it felt comatose, and he'd seen her eyes do the same: first widen with intensity and disbelief and then go dull. She'd smiled tightly when the doctor offered congratulations, and she hadn't made eye contact with anyone since.

She tensed when he reached out to place a comforting hand on her knee, and that unnerved him more than anything else. It was extremely rare that she rebuffed his affections, even or especially when she was hurt or confused or angry. He wanted so desperately for her to talk to him but he didn't quite know where to begin. It was all so unexpected. A few months ago he'd still been under the assumption that he'd probably never have even one child, and he'd made peace with that. And now…

They arrived home, and she went straight to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, which she downed in two seconds flat. She poured herself a second glass and it was then that Toby noticed her hands were shaking, and her breath seemed shallow and labored.

He frowned and stepped forward. "Spencer–"

"I can't do this." Her voice sounded raw and raspy, and she closed her eyes and shook her head rapidly. "I can't do it. I can't, I cant, I can't…"

Her voice hitched and her breaths came more rapidly and Toby's heart nearly broke in half because she hadn't had a panic attack in years and yet here she was, looking like she was about to die over something most people would call a miracle.

"Okay," he said quickly, reaching her in a few quick strides and closing his arms around her. He took deep breaths, hoping she would match her respiratory pattern to his, and pushed her hair away from her clammy forehead. "It's okay. Breathe, Spence. Breathe."

"I can't do this," she choked again, her fingers digging into his sides sharply, and all he could do was answer with, "Sh. Breathe."

She looked a little better within a few minutes and he poured her another glass of water, which she took her time with this time. Toby took in her appearance. She looked – for lack of a better word – disheveled. Exhausted, numb and emotionally drained. And still so beautiful that it made every part of his body ache.

"We'll get through this," he assured her quietly, hoping irrationally that his words would fix everything. "We'll make it work, I promise. We'll find a way."

She seemed almost angry now. "What if I can't?"

"You can." His hands reached out to rub her shoulders but she batted them away.

"It wasn't supposed to go like this," she blurted out with clear frustration in her voice, and Toby would have smiled at the control freak in her if the circumstances were different. "One, remember? That's what we agreed on. I don't even know if I'd be any good with one. I don't know if…" She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair agitatedly, and he wished the crazed look in her eyes didn't scare him so much. "Now I'm going to fuck up three lives, Toby."

He flinched. He'd heard her talk like this once before, but amidst the blind delight of her wanting a child with him after all he'd let it pass. He kicked himself for it now. When his wife said these things, it was always for a reason. It was never in the drama of the moment; it was because she truly felt that way, and he knew better than to overlook it.

"No, you're not," he spoke calmly, trying to keep the dull pain out of his voice. "It'll be hard but you'll get the hang of it. We'll get the hang of it."

"You will," she fired back. "I won't. I can barely picture myself with one kid but three? And what about money?" she rambled on before he could get a word in. "How are we going to financially support three children?"

"Don't worry about that," he pleaded with her. "I'll look into it. I'll make something work."

"Fuck that," she snapped. "Don't act like the male patriarch who handles the finances and tells his wife not her break her pretty little head over it. That's insulting. It's not me, and if you don't know that about me you don't know me at all."

He knew she was lashing out because she was on edge and upset, but he wasn't going to pretend her words didn't sting. Once upon a time he might have let his hurt feelings cloud his judgment but now he looked at her lost expression and all he could do was rub his face and say desperately, "I'm sorry."

To his consternation, she burst into tears. "No, I'm sorry! I've been a complete bitch about this. You're probably excited to have three and all I've done is bitch and complain and rain on your parade."

"Okay," he said again, gathering her into his arms and somewhat to his surprise she let him. "Let it out, babe. Let it out."

Her own arms came around his back and he felt her bury her nose in his neck. Her next words were muffled and pitiful. "I'm so scared of disappointing you."

His grip on her tightened protectively, and he pulled back just barely enough to press a long kiss against her forehead. "I'm not worried," he spoke finally. "I know you. You're going to love these kids something fierce."

"But what if I make all the wrong decisions for them?"

He wiped the wetness from underneath her eyes with his thumbs, trying to keep his voice gentle. "You will make some wrong decisions for them. So will I. We're not going to get everything right, Spence. But these are our children, and we're going to try our very best for them. And you're not in this alone." He trailed one thumb down her cheek. "If we fuck up, we fuck up together."

She was quiet for a moment, and he thought he might have gotten through to her only to see a last flicker of hesitation cross her features.

"You had such a good mom," she said quietly, and so tentatively that he wondered where she was going with this. "I guess… I guess I'm scared I'll never compare."

He felt a sharp stab at his chest, almost like the point of a knife. "Oh, honey…" He took her back in his arms and sighed, whispering his words against her ear. "You're not my mom. I'd never expect you to be my mom. I want you to be you. I want you to figure about how to be the mom you want to be."

She was quiet after that, and he kept a close eye on her over the next few days. She seemed more peaceful than when she'd first found out about the three babies growing inside her, but her enthusiasm was still halfhearted at best. Toby certainly had is own moments of doubt. They looked over their finances together and could only conclude that it wasn't going to be easy. When he offered to work more hours her eyes welled up with tears, which she then quickly blamed on pregnancy hormones. He wasn't fooled. He knew that the last thing she wanted was to spend more time apart, and to be stuck at home with three small children while her husband was at work all the time.

Toby had never been a particularly jittery person but then again, few things had given him more anxiety in his life than the health risks this pregnancy entailed for Spencer. The thought of her little body having to carry three babies to term stressed him out to no end. He was told by doctors, friends and the internet that healthy triplets were born all the time and that they just had to monitor the pregnancy very closely, but none of these facts completely eased his worries. He caught himself staring at his wife sometimes in an otherwise insignificant moment and wishing he could carry those kids for her.

But he was also, undeniably, excited. The thought of having three kids, all the same age, was overwhelming to say the least but it was also thrilling and exhilarating and Toby could not wait to meet them, hold them, have long conversations with them. He would be cuddling with Spencer in bed or on the couch and he would feel the movement inside her body, and his heart would ache in the best possible way because those were his children in there. The awe on Spencer's face when this happened didn't escape him, either.

Little by little, she seemed to adapt and adjust. He could tell she loved all three of these little beings already and that despite all her worries and fears, the idea of having just one was unfathomable to her now. There was still a slight possibility that one of the babies might succumb in-utero, and every time the doctors mentioned this Toby could physically feel her fear in the grip of her dainty hand. She might not have wanted multiple babies, and the idea still scared her and made her doubt herself in some pretty ugly ways, but that clearly hadn't stopped her from getting attached to all three just the same. There was no doubt in Toby's mind that as a mother, she would be a lioness.

Their discussion on whether or not to find out the genders was short lived. Toby thought it might be fun to wait and be surprised when they were born, but Spencer laughed in his face.

"Forget it. I need to plan for this. I need to know exactly what I'm getting into."

He accepted the fact that meticulous preparation was her answer to everything that scared her. The more she could find out about the tiny lives growing inside her, the better she would feel equipped to handle it. If he asked her to hold off finding out what genders she was carrying, he might as well sign her death sentence.

She expressed insecurity over the fact that she couldn't just feel it the way Hanna had claimed she could. Hanna had been convinced from day one that she was having a girl, and when her daughter proved her right she'd raved about motherly intuition to anyone who would listen. It seemed Spencer felt incompetent in that area already when she confessed to him that she had no idea.

"To be honest, I'm kind of hoping they're all boys," she told him one night as they cleaned up the kitchen. Her tone was light and almost joking, yet Toby could sense an underlying truth to her words.

He looked at her in surprise. "Why?"

She shrugged, placing a few plates in the dishwasher. "I feel like I could handle boys. Probably because I have this idea in my head that they'd be like you," she admitted after a moment. "But girls? I guess one wouldn't be too bad, but multiple girls? Sisters?" She shuddered at the thought. "Things get ugly between sisters."

"That doesn't have to be true," he argued. "Just because you had a bad experience with yours doesn't mean it has to be that way for our kids."

She wasn't convinced. "Think about it. They're going to be the exact same age, Toby. People are going to compare them whether we like it or not. They'd just end up hating each other."

The notion that she would think that troubled him, but she was so set in her conviction that he knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of this one. He found himself hoping for at least two boys as well, if only to ease her mind a little. He didn't really care either way but she deserved to have one thing go her way in this pregnancy.

Fate was not so kind, and Toby was back to wrapping his arms around her and all but imploring her to have a little faith.


When she entered the house, Toby greeted her at the door with a hug and a kiss.

"Come here," he said with a gentle tug on her hand. "I have a surprise for you."

"Wait," she laughed, stopping him in the middle of the hall. "I have to pee first. These babies think my bladder is a trampoline."

She sensed his eyes on her as she stepped away, and she didn't know whether to feel self-conscious or flattered. "I know. I'm huge."

He shook his head. "No, Spence. You're beautiful."

Flattered, it was. When she returned he took her upstairs in the direction of the nursery, and when they entered the room her jaw dropped because before her stood three finely crafted cribs. For a second she thought he must have gone out and purchased them, but when she took a closer look she knew differently. She would recognize his craftsmanship anywhere.

"When did you do this?" she breathed, and her heart melted at the pride she saw in his eyes.

"I started the first one right when we started trying, and when we found out we were having two more than expected…" He shrugged. "I built two more."

Her hand slid over the soft material of the wood, and when she took notice of the detailing a lump rose in her throat. He'd told her from that start that he was going to build their baby's crib, but when they found out they were having three it hadn't even occurred to her that he'd take the time and the effort to fulfill his promise threefold.

"Toby…" She cleared her throat and turned to look at him. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

He took a few steps towards her, letting his hands roam her baby bump. "They're my kids, too," he teased her lightly. "You don't have to thank me for doing stuff for my own kids."

It dawned on Spencer that when she was little, her father would occasionally take her and Melissa out for ice cream, probably so her mother could get some work done. And when they returned, her mother would always thank him.

She never realized this might be absurd, but Toby made her see things differently. Why had her mother thanked her father for doing something for his own children? Reflecting on this caused another thought to suddenly rise to the surface of her consciousness, and she looked up into her husband's eyes.

She couldn't predict in how many ways she would fail her children. On good days, she questioned whether she would have any patience with them at all. On bad, she threw up her meals and blamed it on morning sickness even though she was well past her first trimester. But one thing she knew for sure. One thing she knew she had gotten irreversibly right, and she had already given them the very best of.

Spencer had chosen their father. That was a choice she knew her kids would benefit from during their first breath and their last breath and everything that came in between.

A few days later, she spent the afternoon with Hanna and Rylee. It was nice out, and they settled in the backyard and watched the now 20-month-old toddle around on the grass.

"There's nothing like the love you feel for your child, Spence," Hanna spoke up suddenly, her eyes following her daughter's movements as she chased a butterfly. "You'll see. You can't know until you've experienced it."

Spencer didn't say anything, but a sense of gloom washed over her. It felt like a great deal of pressure to have to love something that much. Especially since she felt like she already knew the kind of love that Hanna was talking about. The kind of love that warmed her from the inside out, and consumed her entire existence to the point that she no longer knew who she was without it. She already felt it, every day, for the man whose arms she slept in. She couldn't imagine ever loving anyone as much as she loved him.

She worried that parenthood would change them. She'd carefully observed how it changed Hanna and Caleb. Not necessarily for the worse, she supposed. It was very clear they were still a team and that nothing would ever come between them, but they were a slightly different couple than they were two years ago. So much of their lives revolved around their child. They had always been the couple that was the most elaborate in their public displays of affection – holding hands and being cutesy to the point that it made Spencer roll her eyes at times – and now so much of that was lost because they were so wrapped up in making sure their daughter was safe, warm, fed, comfortable and happy. Hanna and Caleb had always bickered, but now so much of their bickering was over the wellbeing of the child they both loved so deeply.

"Our sex life is pretty pathetic right now," Hanna had even confessed, months ago. "Oh well. We're too exhausted to have sex anyway."

It had scared Spencer then, and it scared her again as she thought back to it now. She needed sex. With Toby. She needed the physical release it gave her, and she needed the sanctuary of curling up in his embrace afterwards. She grew cranky without it. She felt like she was being deprived of something essential when too much time passed without feeling his bare skin on hers. Even now that she had three lives growing inside her and felt like a beached whale, it hadn't stopped them. But would the burden and fatigue and burnout of raising children cause them to drift apart physically if not emotionally?

The babies grew. Her worries did not stop them. Spencer was grateful when the OB/GYN informed them that all three were not only healthy but also positioned correctly for a vaginal birth. She almost couldn't believe her ears, because at this point she was so used to this pregnancy throwing her for a loop that she'd already mentally prepared herself for a C-section.

"Do you know what the chances are of naturally conceiving triplets?" Spencer asked her husband one night as he laid against her when she couldn't sleep, his hand slowly running back and forth across her belly. It was nearly 2 a.m. and Toby had offered to make her tea but she declined, wanting his warm body beside her more than any hot drink.

He hoisted himself up on one elbow and looked at her expectantly, and she informed him, "I looked it up. 8,100 to one."

Toby nodded, and it puzzled her how she saw his mouth twitch noticeably before he clearly tried to keep a straight face.

"What's so funny?" she wanted to know, reaching out to push his hair out of his eyes. He tried to hide it from her but in end the succumbed to his obvious hilarity and cracked up, leaving her perplexed.

"8,100 to one?" he questioned finally, through his hearty laughter. "Are you serious? We're ridiculous, Spencer. This could only happen to us."

And suddenly she was laughing, too, clutching her stomach and wiping tears of merriment from her eyes. They both laughed till it wore them out, and when most of their amusement eventually passed she wondered if she had ever loved him as much as she did in this very moment.

They argued for weeks and weeks over names, until they finally settled on three that they both fell in love with. They kept the names a secret from their friends and family – much to Hanna's chagrin, who hadn't been able to stop herself from spilling her own daughter's name long before the actual birth. They painted the nursery together, and read up on things like breastfeeding and vaccinations and parenting techniques together. With all her doctors' warnings of the likelihood of a premature birth with multiples, Spencer had her overnight bag packed at twenty-eight weeks.

But the babies stayed put, and before she knew it she was at thirty-five. She didn't think she'd ever been so miserable, physically speaking, in her whole life. She felt like the size of a building, she had awful insomnia, she experienced back pain and leg cramps and headaches, she had shortness of breath, her feet were so swollen that all she could tolerate were flip flops and she couldn't go half an hour without having to pee. Rationally, she knew it was in the best interest of these kids to stay with her for as long as her body would allow it. She felt like a terrible mother already for wishing at times that they would just come out and put her out of her misery, and she didn't share these thoughts with anyone.

It finally became too much one evening as she was making herself some tea while Toby put the final touches on the nursery. She felt like she hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in ages and she'd had terrible heartburn all day, and when the teapot leaked and tea spilled all over the counter it was the last straw. Tears of frustration fell from her eyes as she mopped up the mess, and soon they were coming with such a vigor that her vision went blurry.

"What's wrong?"

Toby's sudden presence in the kitchen startled her, and she quickly fought for her composure. "Nothing," she said quickly, turning away from him and furiously wiping at her face.

He came closer and his hands settled on her shoulders before sliding down her arms and across her protruding stomach, his body covering hers from behind. He pushed his face into her neck and breathed her in. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes to prevent more tears from falling.

"Tell me," he whispered against her.

She couldn't. She couldn't tell him how fucking sick she was of being pregnant when she'd signed up to carry these babies for forty weeks and yet here she was, ready to throw in the towel at only thirty-five. It made her sick inside to think of how selfish she was, and so she uttered the only words she could muster. "I'm so sorry…"

He didn't ask what for. Instead, he kissed her cheek before turning her around and tilting her chin towards him. "Are you kidding?" he spoke gently. "It's unreal what a trooper you've been these last few weeks. These babies are basically parasites to your body and you haven't complained once."

Hearing him refer to their children as parasites made her chuckle unexpectedly, and she hesitantly tried out her own bout of dry humor. "No, I cry over spilled tea instead."

"You're entitled to a little neurosis," he assured her teasingly, before turning serious. "Spencer. There are three growing babies inside your body. I don't know anyone who could pull that off with so much dignity, and there isn't a second that goes by that you don't amaze me."

His words made her tears return with a vengeance, and she reached out to wrap her arms around his neck. But instead of the comfort of his embrace, all she felt her massive stomach bump against him, and her arms fell short – literally – and in a flash the frustration was back.

"I can't even hug you," she cried, but before she had time to dwell on the devastation of this discovery Toby was guiding her to the couch. He sat down before holding his hand out to her, and when she lowered herself beside him she was immensely relieved to find she still fit underneath his arm. Her heartbeat gradually slowed as she rested against his chest, and when she felt completely calm as she looked up at Toby only to find him gazing at her with wonder and devotion in his eyes. Her hand went up to his hair and she pulled his mouth down to hers.

She carried her children for another two weeks, until her body called it quits or the babies called it quits – she wasn't quite sure. Toby took her to the hospital, calm and supportive as always, and held her hand throughout the long and utmost painful journey of their kids fighting their way out of her body and into the world of the living.

Their son came first, and they named him Lawrence Tobias. Seven minutes later there was a daughter, Cleo Marion. Thirty-four minutes after that, another daughter, Eloise Jill.

And just like that, Spencer was a mother.