A/N: I start school in less then a week so, not that I'm a speedy poster to begin with, but updates might go back to once a week. Words can not describe how much research it took for me to even begin writing this. That is all. Enjoy!


Two weeks after graduation, I found that nothing really changed – or at least the changes weren't drastic enough to notice. It really just felt like summer vacation, but instead of everyone returning to McKinley in the fall, they'd be dispersed around the county to their university of choice. I was due in two months, so instead of buying college apparel, I was working on my collection of stretchy pants and loose fitting shirts. I was the definition of sexy; Artie couldn't keep his hands off me –my belly at least.

I woke up late enough to catch my mother showered, dressed, and out the door with a grocery list a mile long. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I grabbed the half spooned out pint of Mint Chocolate Chip, and headed for the couch. After five minutes of channel surfing, I found a classic Disney movie that was only ten minutes in progress. Except for the fact that my lower back was absolutely killing me, it looked like the beginnings of a good day.

When the second set of commercials came on, I decided to throw away the soggy carton and change the cotton swoop neck T-shirt that I dripped ice cream on. Putting my hand on the back of the couch for support, I began to stand up. However, some kind of hard pressure in my pelvis made my sit right back down out of shock. I placed my hand on my stomach as the pressure decreased to a dull roar. It felt like a rock, or more like a baby, pushing down on my pelvis bone – which only added to the throbbing pain in my back.

"Okay I get it," I chuckled with a second attempt at standing up. "You're not a fan of mint chocolate"

Something stopped me half way to the kitchen – a warm and damp sensation in my lower region. I looked down, and liquid was soaking through my army green pants like wildfire. It didn't take me long to figure out what was happening, but it sure took a second to realize what it meant. The experience that I was supposed to have eight more weeks to prepare for was happening right there and then – I was going into labor.

I started to panic, like really start to panic. Not only was my abdomen contracting in ways I never thought possible, but I was home alone without a single clue. Once I pulled myself together enough to function, I frantically called mom's cell phone from the kitchen. She didn't believe me, and told me just to take a bath until the false contractions stopped. However when I told her my water broke and was currently dripping down my inner thigh, I literally heard her drop everything.

Although the drive from our house to the closest grocery store was less than five minutes away, but because of my anxiety and all-around discomfort, it felt like thirty. When mom pulled into the driveway and obnoxiously honked the horn, I nearly flew out of the house and into the back seat of her compact car.

"How far apart are your contractions?" She asked, turning swiftly into the street.

"W-what?"

"Tina, when was your last contraction?"

"I don't know, three minutes ago – maybe?" I shrugged.

"Start timing, and here, call the Abrams," she said, tossing me her blackberry.

Calling Artie had been the last thing on my mind in the midst of the surprise baby attack. The combination of my shaky hands and tiny buttons made dialing difficult, but I eventually managed to type out his cell phone number. It rang once, twice, a third, and a fourth before cutting to voice mail. Not even taking the phone away from my ear, I pressed re-dial, and got his voice mail once again.

"Artie, pick up the phone…m-my water broke, I-I'm on my way to the hospital. I…Art, please call me back."

"Try his parents," mom said.

"I don't know their numbers…and no one's home at this hour. Artie works until 4:00pm," I said.

Every few minutes, I tried to reach him, but the same thing happened every time. I tried to limit my voice messages, but each time I left one, I could feel myself getting louder, crazier, and more desperate to hear his voice every time. My contractions quickly escalated to once every six minutes, and my pain stricken cries only caused my mom to break at least seven road rules, which was very out of character.

By the time we reached Lima Memorial Hospital, I had called Artie's cell phone forty-three times in the thirty minutes it took to get there. With my contractions lasting as long as a minute and coming every three or four, it took a lot of motivation from my mother to get me from the car and though the hospitals automatic doors. I had given up on calling Artie and mom took her phone back.

After a quick look at 'how things are going down there' by an on call doctor, I was rushed into a delivery room down the hall in a hospital gown. It was too late for an epidural, and I already regretted not having one.

I heard my full name thrown all around the intimidating delivery room between doctors and nurses along with long medical sounding vocabulary. My mom sat to my right, dressed in blue plastic like the other 95% of the room, and kept one hand on my shoulder and the other molded around the back of my skull.

"Tina, are you ready to push for me?" A tan faced man with green eyes asked, snapping on a pair of latex gloves.

"No…no,no,no. I need him here, I-I need Artie," I squirmed, quickly glancing at my mom.

"The father," she added.

"I'm afraid we can't wait any longer without risking the health of your baby," a redheaded female said from over the man's shoulder.

"Come on Tina, we can do this together – you and me," mom encouraged, squeezing my shoulder.

"He needs to be here."

My inner walls contracted once more with the hardest pressure yet, which caused me to yelp and grip the bed sheets beneath me. Everything below my ribcage told me push, while my heart told me to refrain.

"Tina, I need you to corporate more with me here," the green eyed man said.

"Okay," I sniffed after a pause – wiping a tear from the outer corner of my left eye.

It was, without a doubt, one of the most painful occurrences in my life - every shift, every strain I felt as the baby inched past my pelvic bone and into the world. My mom did her best in coaching me and I was lucky to have her, but even with her maternal experience, she was no Artie. Within the twenty-five minutes it took to bring baby Cohen-Chang-Abrams in the world, I waited for Artie to come though the door and take my mothers place…but it never happened.

It was a girl. A tiny, wailing, baby girl no longer than one of Artie's geeky looking orthopedic shoes. It was almost a relief to hear her cry, especially with being two months early, but because of that – she was taken away by a team of nurses to a placed called the "NICU" before I could even meet her.

"You did great, sweetheart," mom smiled, kissing the side of my face.

"D-did he call?" I faintly asked, completely exhausted, but not enough to forget.

Mom reached under her plastic robe and unlocked her blackberry. Looking at the screen, she bit her lip before grimly shaking her head. There was my answer.