I'm not even sorry. :P I'm grateful, obviously. Thanks for reading and for your continued support. This chapter details Henry's birth, so apologies if labor and delivery aren't quite your thing. Obviously I'm not going into graphic detail or anything, but like I said way back when, I'm also not sugarcoating it. Labor ain't cute, kids. Anyone else just get deja vu? :P

Chapter title comes from "The Moment I Saw You" by Nicolette Larson, story comes from me and reviews come from you, if you choose to. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing, if you do!

the moment I held you

Her due date is July 26th.

Of many things, she is not certain, because pregnancy brain is a real condition and that combined with the fact that she has an eight-year-old and a two-year-old and the heat index is breaking records this year renders her mind completely useless. She doesn't know if her older daughter had a full breakfast this morning; she may have allowed her to eat a cupcake for breakfast, but hey, at least she'd washed it down with a glass of milk. She doesn't know if her younger daughter is even wearing pants; she's in the 'do it myself' phase, these days, and normally, this means the fabulous combination of inside-out t-shirt and Pampers Pull-Up is her go-to look, pants need not apply. She doesn't know when she last ran the dishwasher or cleaned out the refrigerator or vacuumed the living room floor, because all of these details seem to slip her mind without ever taking proper footing in the first place nowadays.

But she knows for a fact that her due date is July 26th.

It's something she checks with her doctor during each visit, something she catalogues, something she makes a mental and physical note of. She marks it on her calendar and then counts upwards a few weeks, just in case. Grace had been born three weeks early and though at the time it had done nothing but frighten Spencer, fearing they weren't ready to be parents or fearing she'd be born underdeveloped, everything had turned out alright. She was healthy, happy and most of all, full-term, and they were able to take her home right away. With Lilly, she was due at the end of June, but instead, her little girl was born five weeks early in mid-May and required a bit more attention than her older sister had. She'd been stuck in the NICU, in an incubator, with oxygen and a jaundice lamp, and Spencer had wondered what was wrong with her; why couldn't she carry a baby to term? The doctors had assured her it was nothing she did- just one of those things- and Lilly joined their family at home, happy and healthy. So, knowing she has the potential to labor earlier than her suggested due date, the moment July comes, Spencer prepares for birth. Her due date is July 26th, though; it's ingrained in the forefront of her mind.

Why? Because July 26th comes and goes and there is still no sign of a baby.

She wakes up on the morning of the 28th in a pool of her own sweat, her sheets damp, her hair matted to her face and neck, and her clothes sticking to her skin. She has never felt more unattractive in her life. She can hear the clanging of dishes downstairs and knows Toby's getting breakfast ready for the girls, a spectacle in itself. Pulling herself to a sitting position with great difficulty, she peels the sheets off of her and tries to think back nine months to what they were possibly thinking when they conceived. October would have been her last menstrual cycle, which means they would have conceived in… Of course. November- their anniversary. She smirks and shakes her head, unsurprised, but wishes the Spencer and Toby of nine months ago would have considered that should a child result of the exorbitant amount of sex they had, she would be reaching the most uncomfortable part of said pregnancy during the unbearable month of July. Then again, they never really were the ones to listen to reason, especially when the other was involved. Throw in some champagne, an anniversary weekend free of their older two kids, and a mountain-view resort in the Poconos and that ship sailed long ago.

Spencer supposes that it's probably a good thing her third child's stayed in there longer than her other two. At least she knows he or she will be healthy enough to come home with them right away; no NICU stays or incubators for this one. She also supposes she should probably head downstairs and help her husband with breakfast, but she both looks and feels like a sewer rat, so she's going to take a shower first. Padding into the adjacent room, she quickly turns the nob and discards her clothing, stepping under the soothing waterfall. She adjusts the temperature so it's as cool and refreshing as she can stand it and sighs in relief, grinning slightly as the water hits her stomach and the baby rolls and elbows her in response. Being pregnant is possibly one of the strangest and most amazing feelings she's ever gone through and maybe she and Toby haven't quite discussed it yet, but Spencer privately believes this is the last time. They'd like a boy to complete their little family and though they hadn't found out the sex for the third time in a row (and she hadn't had to badger Toby to agree, this time), she feels it deep in her soul- their prayers had been answered.

Stepping out of the shower, the heat hits her like a slap in the face and her mood is instantly sour once more. A week earlier their AC unit had been shot to hell, and it took hours to replace and a few hundred dollars, but it had been working ever since. As Spencer descends the staircase into the foyer, she notes it still is; the house is a comfortable seventy-two degrees and she shouldn't be sweating bullets like she'd never showered in the first place. She steps into the kitchen unnoticed and pulls open the refrigerator, contemplating a breakfast that wouldn't make her feel heavy and full for the rest of the day, and as the cool air from the inside greets her balmy skin, she realizes this is good enough.

"Good morning, beautiful," Toby greets her with a complacent smile and Spencer wonders if he's seeing what she does when she looks in the mirror. He can't be. Or, if he is, he's blatantly lying to her.

"Morning, Mommy," Grace grins from the table. "Daddy made pancakes."

"Mommy," Lilly coos. "Mickey Mouse!"

"Daddy made Mickey pancakes?" Spencer implores from her spot in the fridge. "That was nice of him."

"It's Saturday," Toby shrugs. "Saturday's pancake day. Can I make you one?"

"No, thanks," Spencer shakes her head. "I don't think I can eat. I'm just going to have some juice or something. It's too hot to eat."

Toby steps closer, asking, "Are you alright? I won't judge you if you want to have a Popsicle for breakfast."

"I won't. I will actually eat something nutritious. Can't give this kid the wrong idea," Spencer tells him and chooses some yogurt and granola with fresh blueberries. "But my God, is he ever going to make an appearance?"

"It's only been two days," Toby tells her and then implores, "Wait, he?"

"I decided it's a boy," Spencer tells him. "Because only a boy would be this much of stubborn, pain in the ass."

Toby chuckles. "I disagree. Our other girls may have come earlier than expected, but that didn't make them easier."

"That's true," Spencer sighs and begins stirring her yogurt, before her eyes catch the digital clock on the stove and she balks. "It's almost nine o'clock! How is it so late? I don't ever get up this late!"

"You were sleeping," Toby shrugs. "You were actually sleeping for once and I wasn't waking you up. Relax. I've got this."

And, as she glances around the kitchen, she has to admit he does. The dishes are done, the girls are fed and happy, and Lilly's even wearing pants; a cute skirt, actually, that Spencer's never even seen before. She shakes her head and asks, "How are you so much better at this than I am?"

"Oh stop. I'm not better at anything than you are," Toby insists and then amends his statement. "Except maybe Scrabble. And reading Grace her bedtime stories."

"She picks the same three every night!" Spencer exclaims. "How are you better at that?"

Grace pipes up from the table, saying, "Daddy does the voices."

Toby nods. "You've got to do the voices."

"And I don't pick the same ones," Grace disagrees, bringing her dishes to the sink. "I just got five new ones from the library and we've been reading those. Two of them are Magic Tree House books because I loved that one about the Titanic."

"Oh, Grace, I grew up on those books," Spencer tells her. "Good choice."

"And then I picked one that I can read to the baby," Grace informs her. "I already practiced on Lilly."

Toby adds, "That's assuming the baby ever shows up."

Spencer chuckles. "Don't remind me."

It's July 31st and still no sign of baby number three. Spencer is still incredibly uncomfortable and the heat and humidity have yet to break. Grace goes to summer camp during the day and Lilly basically plays around her mother, not particularly bothered that she halfheartedly joins in, but Spencer's really at wit's end with this pregnancy. Every time the little one inside her performs his or her gymnastics routine on her insides, she's sending the infant telepathy to make his or her grand entrance. It's time. She's ready; she's more than ready. Worse than that, she's overdue. And there isn't much in any of her pregnancy books that tell her what to do when the due date comes and goes. When she searches Google for the answer, anxiety begins to build within her. Most sources claim that rarely, if ever, do second or third pregnancies go past term, and that it could be a sign of something abnormal. This only sparks panic within her and she begins to worry.

Luckily for her, July 31st is the date of her next prenatal appointment and, after leaving both girls with Aria for the afternoon, Spencer and Toby head for the OB/GYN to get some answers or possibly even results. It starts off the same; the nurse takes her vitals and her height and weight and asks if she has any concerning symptoms or questions for the doctor. Spencer has only one- when is this child going to vacate her uterus? The nurse chuckles and tells her it'll be just a moment for the doctor to arrive and the couple waits in silence. It's icy cold in here today and she wonders if they keep it like this on purpose, because surely she can't be the only woman nine months pregnant and melting her skin off. She wishes, briefly, that there could be a way to keep her own house this cold and then frowns because surely it would freeze her remaining family members into icicles. Then she pictures it and gets mildly emotional. If the heat doesn't kill her first, these damn hormones will.

A knock on the door signals Dr. Campbell's arrival and she grins at both of them when she enters. Her happiness sends a fit of resentment through Spencer and she wonders if this woman knows how lucky she is not to be nine months pregnant in this heat. "Hello, hello, hello! How are we doing?"

"Five days late and still no baby," Spencer cuts to the chase. "How do you think we're doing?"

"I noticed," Dr. Campbell jokes. "To be honest, I was surprised not to hear from you this week. You must be really uncomfortable."

"Oh, just a tad," Spencer seethes. "Any indication of when this kid might want to make an appearance?"

"Honestly, you're doing everything right," Dr. Campbell tells her. "Last time you were here, you were about fifty percent effaced and about a centimeter or two dilated, so I figured it would be soon. But your baby has different plans- I don't think he or she's ready to check out yet!"

"Too bad," Spencer says, shifting uncomfortably as her doctor begins the exam. "I'm sending an eviction notice."

"This might sound like a stupid question," Toby prefaces. "But… I mean, the baby's going to come out, right? Like he's not going to stay in there forever?"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "Toby…"

"No, I don't mean it like that, I'm just saying…" He backpedals, explaining himself. "She hasn't been sleeping well, so we've been watching a lot of late night television and one of the specials was a documentary on this Brazilian woman who was pregnant for 84 years. And it freaked me out, that's all."

"Ah, yes, I know what you're talking about," Dr. Campbell says. "But that was a very special case, see, the fetus had passed away in utero and so it simply stopped growing and she never gave birth. She honestly hadn't even known about it and wrote her stomach pains off as indigestion and illness. But you certainly don't have to worry about that. Your child's very healthy; super strong heartbeat, squirming around, taking a nap on Spencer's bladder…"

"Explains why I have to pee," She sighs and they chuckle.

"Don't worry; your time will come," Dr. Campbell assures them. "I'm sure this is very new to you, considering your prior pregnancies. I delivered little Lilly at 35 weeks, but I understand your firstborn was early as well?"

"Not as; she was due late January and was born on the eighth," Spencer explains. "But yeah, I guess I'm kind of used to going early, so this is definitely a surprise."

Toby then wonders, "How late will you let it go?"

"Each pregnancy is different," Dr. Campbell tells them. "But we usually don't let you get past 42 weeks, and you are heading for that date. I'd say if you haven't gone into active labor by August seventh, then I'm going to offer you an induction."

"Induction?" Spencer asks. "You're not going to force me to have a cesarean are you?"

"Only if medically necessary," She says. "But what we would do, if you agreed, is we'd bring you in at 42 weeks and set you up on a Pitocin drip."

"Pitocin?" Toby probes and Dr. Campbell nods.

"It's an intravenous medicine that triggers contractions," She explains. "If by then, you haven't had your little one, we'll help you along."

"I read online that going past your due date is uncommon for a second or third pregnancy," Spencer then says. "That it could be a sign of something abnormal or a cause for alarm."

Dr. Campbell dismisses this easily. "Like I said, every pregnancy is different, whether it's your first or your thirty-first. And less than five percent of babies come on their actual due date, which means every other baby is left to come a few days to a few weeks before, to a few days to a few weeks after. Either way, it's normal. There's no reason to worry; your baby's very healthy. And you're at 65% and two, maybe two and a half centimeters, so you are progressing. Just a little slower than you'd probably like."

"Is there anything we can do to maybe speed up the process?" Toby asks and Spencer nods eagerly beside him.

"Of course, but they're all old wives' tales," Dr. Campbell says. "Some women swear by them, others say they've tried them all and nothing worked. It's up to Mother Nature, really."

"But what are they?" Spencer wonders. "Because honestly, I will try anything at this point."

"I've heard everything from acupuncture to castor oil," Dr. Campbell tells her. "Long walks, spicy foods, sex… Those are the most popular, anyway. I'm sure there are many more."

"Thanks," Spencer nods. "We'll give them a try."

It's August 2nd. She's beginning to lose it.

The night before, they'd had enchiladas for dinner and both Grace and Lilly had barely eaten anything, and Spencer had mostly jalapenos. After, they'd gone for a nice, long walk around the neighborhood, Grace had ridden her bike and Lilly had pedaled her tiny little tricycle in an effort to keep up with her older sister. And yet that night, when they were bathed and sound asleep and their parents had retreated to their own bed, there were still no stabbing pains at her lower abdomen, no rush of gross, warm fluid, not a single sign of labor. They laid awake for a while and waited and yet midnight came and went and then it was a new day; a day where they were still just a family of four, not yet five. And then it hit her; all the frustration and discomfort and irritation hit her all at once and she sat upright, paralyzed with emotion, as Toby did the same beside her, a look of hope on his face.

Instead of being in active labor, she was instead bawling her eyes out.

"What if you're right? What if he never comes out?" She'd cried. "What if he stays in there forever and I'm pregnant for 84 years?"

"Okay, look, we never should have watched that documentary, first of all," Toby had told her, rubbing her back. "And second, he's not going to do that. That poor woman's baby was dead, but ours isn't. He's perfectly fine."

"But what if he's not?" She insisted. "We don't know what's going on in there. What if-"

"Spencer, we heard his heartbeat two days ago," Toby said. "Remember? At the doctor?"

"Yeah, but that was two days ago," Spencer shook her head. "Who knows what happened since then. Who knows if he-"

"Hey, look at me," He'd curled a hand into her hair, their eyes meeting. "He's okay. He's perfectly fine. He'll come out when he's ready."

He'd taken her hand, then, and pressed it right up against the dome of her stomach. "You feel that, right there? Where he's kicking the crap out of you?"

"Yeah."

"That's him, babe. He's there and he's perfectly fine."

"I'm so uncomfortable," She'd then whined. "I want to sleep and I can't. It's so hot. And dinner didn't help me go into labor at all; it just gave me horrible heartburn."

"I know. I'm so sorry," Toby had lamented. "Let me know what I can do for you. I will literally do anything to make this easier for you."

"I know you will," She'd replied, her lower lip quivering. "You've been so great. I don't deserve it; I don't deserve you."

"Spencer, we're not having this conversation again," He'd told her firmly. "Look, lay down, get as comfortable as you can, use as many pillows as you need, okay? I'm going to make you a cup of tea and we'll put on a movie or something. Just… try and relax, okay? Working yourself up isn't going to solve anything right now."

And that's all she remembers. She must've fallen asleep before he'd returned and she certainly doesn't remember that, but she'll take what she can get. God, Toby's a saint; she doubts he has the energy to wrangle their two daughters and fight her insecurities magnified by pregnancy hormones, but he does it in stride, anyway. She has absolutely no idea how she got so lucky, but she's certainly not letting him go. In fact, she's overcome with the need to tell him just how much he means to her, just how thankful she is to be doing this with him by her side, but he's nowhere to be found. Grace is at camp and Lilly's down for her afternoon nap and she honestly cannot find her husband anywhere. Just as she's passing the sliding glass door that leads to the porch, she spots him cleaning the pool and, like a giddy teenager, her heart skips a beat.

She's pretty sure she'd like to keep him.

Sliding the porch door open, Spencer takes a step into mid-afternoon sunshine, which beats down on her cranium and forms beads of sweat between her shoulder blades, and steps closer to the pool deck. He's shirtless and sweating and completely oblivious to her observing from afar as he plunges the vacuum down the slimy walls, across the bottom of the pool and back to the surface of the water. His skin's a nice golden brown already, because he always tans and never burns, something he's been blessed with and she appreciates greatly. The rippling muscles of his arms and back are taunting her, calling to her, and she can't take her eyes off of him. She's filled to the brim with the overwhelming need to touch him. These are the hormones she could get used to, honestly.

He doesn't notice her until she's mere feet from him. "Spencer, I didn't think-"

She attacks his mouth with her own and he drops the pole in surprise, but kisses back in earnest. After a moment, he pulls back to ask, "What has gotten into you?"

"You have," She says as though he should have picked up on these vibes before attaching their lips once more. "Make love to me."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Toby says and the pool is utterly forgotten.

They're making out heavily as they head back inside, up the stairs, towards their bedroom, and Spencer, in between kisses, blurts out, "We are so going to induce labor this way."

Toby smirks and jokes, "I love it when you talk dirty."

"Hey, it's been nine long, uncomfortably hot, hormonal months. It's time to get him out," Spencer insists. "Finish what you started, Cavanaugh."

His eyebrows flick upwards as he regards her. "Say no more."

They fall back against the bed and are just beginning to remove their clothing when she pauses and her disposition changes slightly. He senses it and pulls back to ask, concerned, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…" She shakes her head and runs a hand through her already mussed hair. "I'm a sweaty mess, I literally can't see my feet, I'm like twelve months pregnant and I… I can't believe you still want to do this with me."

Toby gives her look like she's the crazy one, not him. It's probably true. "You're beautiful. You've always been beautiful. And you, right here, right now, have never been more beautiful."

Spencer smiles, her balance restored. "I love you."

"I love you," Toby insists. "And if you're trying to talk me out of having sex with you, it's not happening."

Yeah. She definitely wants to keep him.

It's August 5th and she's reached her breaking point.

Every time the baby rolls over or jabs her bladder or practices his routine for his Cirque du Soleil audition, she prepares for her water to break or for her first contraction and when it doesn't happen, she curses loudly. Many times she considers walking into the kitchen and performing a cesarean section of her own and she's pretty sure she could figure it out, except for the part where she has to stitch herself back up afterwards. That could get a little tricky, but she supposes there's a video for that somewhere on the Internet; everything's on YouTube, nowadays. She has long since passed uncomfortable by this point; now, she's downright irritable. Everything pisses her off and she has a very, very short fuse for anyone's problems other than her own.

That is, until Toby takes a phone call and returns to the living room a different person. It could only mean one thing- his father had called.

He waits until Grace is occupied with a bunch of Legos and Lilly is busy slaving away at her play kitchen before reluctantly giving up the goods. "My Dad just called. He invited us to his end of the summer barbeque… Again."

It's true; Daniel Cavanaugh's invitation is annual and rarely, if ever, do they take him up on it. Spencer sighs and asks, point blank, "Do you want to go?"

"Not really," Toby replies. "I mean… What good could possibly come out of that? Do you remember the conversation we had at that Fourth party that one year? When Grace was little?"

"Yeah, but that was six years ago, Toby," Spencer reasons and he frowns.

"What?" He probes. "You think he's changed?"

"No," She tells him honestly. "But you have."

He doesn't say anything else. Spencer pleads, "Look, let's just get it over with. If we go this year, then we won't feel bad about declining next year."

Toby sighs heavily. "Fine."

"We'll make a polite appearance and be out of there by dessert," Spencer promises. "But he better not say anything negative to you, because I will rip him a new one. Pregnant me doesn't hold back."

Toby glances at her and teases, "And how is that different from not-pregnant you?"

She swats at him and he laughs and that's how, the very next day on August the 6th, they end up back in Rosewood at Toby's childhood home, making small talk with people they don't really know at a party they'd rather not attend. Spencer has an uneasy feeling in her stomach the entire drive, one that only worsens the moment they pull up and enter the yard. Across the crowd, Spencer spots Emily, to her confusion, and when she and the girls approach her, she wonders, "Hey, Em, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, my parents and the Cavanaughs have been neighbors forever," Emily explains, accepting a hug from Grace and scooping Lilly into her arms as she giggles. "My Mom comes to this thing every year and usually drags my Dad with her, but he hasn't been feeling so hot lately, so she begged me."

Spencer notices, "No Paige? Twins?"

"Please. I keep them out of Rosewood as much as I can," Emily replies and Spencer nods her understanding. They share this philosophy, after all. "Have Toby and his Dad mended fences yet?"

"Hardly," Spencer shakes her head. "He invites us every year, out of obligation I'm sure, but I don't think he expected us to come. You should've seen his face when we came in."

Emily frowns. "Poor Toby. Is he with his father now?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "And I pushed him to come, as I always do, and now I feel awful about it. I have a terrible stomachache."

"You were just being supportive," Emily assures her. "It's probably fine."

Spencer glances towards the deck, where her husband and the elder Cavanaugh are chatting brusquely. "I wouldn't be so sure."

Meanwhile, Daniel is coating a rack of ribs and some drumsticks with barbeque sauce as Toby stands idly by beside him. "I'm glad you could make it, son. We were beginning to wonder if you'd stayed away on purpose."

"Yeah, we did," Toby tells him honestly. "Remember? You don't approve of my lifestyle? The woman I'm spending the rest of my life with?"

"Grace has gotten big," Daniel says instead. "She was just a little thing last time we saw her."

"It's been six years," Toby sighs. "That happens."

"Lilly, too," Daniel nods. "She's beautiful. Reminds me of your mother, honestly. Looks a lot like her."

"Yeah," He frowns. "I guess."

"You know, you've got a family you have to support, now," Daniel says. "It's time to settle down and get a real, respectable job. Have you thought about going to school to get a degree?"

"Dad, I'm thirty-three," Toby replies. "I don't have time to go to college. Besides, I already have a job."

"Right," Daniel frowns. "With that construction company."

"It's an architect's office," Toby corrects. "And between that and Spencer's job, we do okay. Trust me."

"Architect, construction," He waves it off. "Same thing. Look-"

"It's not the same thing," Toby disagrees. "I'm a contractor; a carpenter. I don't wear an orange vest and a hard hat."

"The bottom line is, wouldn't you like to do something that could support the both of you so Spencer didn't have to work?" Daniel suggests. "She could focus on the little ones and you could bring home the bacon."

"She likes her job," He shakes his head. "She's good at it, too. She's helping people."

"Or that's just what she's telling you," Daniel says. "Look, I know a woman in my office who would love to meet with you and talk over a job in finance-"

"Dad," Toby halts him. "Did you invite me here to proposition me into taking a job with you? Move back here? Because that's absolutely not going to happen."

"Toby, you're not making anything of your life and frankly, we're sick of it," Daniel sighs, shutting the grill. "If you could just listen-"

"No, you listen," Toby shoots back. "I have a job. I have a home that I built with my own two hands. I have two children, one on the way and a wife, all of whom I love dearly, and you're trying to tell me I'm not making anything of my life? What more do you want from me?"

"I want you to wake up and realize what you're doing," Daniel seethes. "You are playing with fire, Toby. She and her people are accustomed to a certain style of living and you might think she's okay with what you're giving her, but sooner or later, she's going to realize it isn't for her and leave you high and dry. It's not good enough; you're not good enough and so unless you make a drastic change to try and give her the life she expects, you're going to be the one getting burned, here. It's just a matter of waiting for the other shoe to drop and you must be blind if you still can't see that."

Toby's quiet a minute before saying, "We've been together for sixteen years. Did you ever think maybe there is no other shoe?"

He turns around to find Spencer standing there, a pained look on her face, and just knows she's heard the whole thing. But it's a different kind of pain; it's physical pain, and he knows how much she hurts whenever someone doesn't treat him with respect, but it's never like this. He asks, "Are you okay?"

"I left the girls with Emily and Pam," She's breathing calmly, but there's stress in her eyes. "I'm in labor."

He jumps into action. "Okay. Okay, let's go. Let's get out of here."

Spencer glances at Daniel and says, "I'd say thanks for inviting us, but I don't think you ever really wanted us here in the first place."

Daniel stares at their retreating backs and nothing more is said.

"Eleven days late," Toby comments from the driver's seat. "That's got to be a new record."

"Just drive," She breathes rhythmically. "Please, just drive."

"I am, I am," He assures her. "We'll be there in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" She asks as another contraction slices through her like a blade. "Where are you taking me?"

He eyes her strangely. "The hospital?"

"Rosewood Memorial?" She whines as it grows closer. "No, no, no, I can't have the baby in Rosewood. I can't."

"It's just a hospital, Spencer, and it's the closest one," Toby disagrees. "It's fine. I'm sure they have plenty of qualified-"

"I can't have the baby in Rosewood!" She shrieks again. "Go home. Please, go home."

"We're right here," Toby pleads with her. "Do you want to have this baby in a hospital or in the car on the way to our hospital?"

She bites her lip, considering, and he shouts, incredulous, "Are you seriously contemplating that?"

"We can make it," Spencer assures him. "We can. Please go home. Back to our hospital. Please."

Toby sighs. "It's going to be like twenty-five, thirty minutes."

"He waited eleven days," Spencer says. "I'm sure thirty minutes is nothing."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Toby shakes his head and pulls onto the highway as Spencer squirms uncomfortably beside him. "How far apart are they?"

"Six minutes, twelve seconds," She breathes. "Oh, God, distract me."

"Uh, the presidents," Toby decides. "Name them. In order."

"You always give me the easy ones," She says. "Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe-"

"Okay, fine," Toby cuts her off. "In reverse order, then."

"Now you're talking," She jokes. "Obama, Bush, Clinton, Bush, Reagan, Carter…"

She's stumped on who came before William McKinley as her contraction subsides. There's nothing but open road and commuters before her and she can feel the baby's head resting very low in her pelvis. If being pregnant is one of the weirdest and most amazing feelings she's ever experienced, then actually giving birth might just be number one. She glances over at the determination on Toby's face and smiles, saying, "The baby wants to defend you as much as I do."

Toby shoots her an odd glance before shifting his gaze back to the road. "What?"

"I haven't been feeling well all day, but I didn't have my first contraction until I walked over there and overheard your father reaming you out for no reason," Spencer explains. "That was it. Baby wanted out."

He chuckles. "Oh really?"

"Yeah. He's like, 'That's it. Let me at him'," Spencer says. "'Nobody talks to my Daddy like that'."

He grins but before he can reply, her calm visage melts into one of excruciating pain instead and she groans, "That was not six minutes. They're getting closer. Drive faster!"

"I'm already doing ten over the speed limit," He tells her. "If we had just gone to Rosewood Memorial-"

"Now is not the time for 'I told you so'," She insists. "Distract me!"

"Okay, you think it's a boy, right?"

"It is a boy."

"We haven't chosen a name," Toby says. "How about Jacob?"

"Reminds me of Twilight."

"Patrick?"

"Reminds me of SpongeBob."

"Harrison?"

"Reminds me of Dexter," Spencer says. "New rule- nothing from the media, okay?"

"You're so picky," Toby shakes his head. "You haven't liked a single name I've suggested since the beginning."

"This is important, okay?" Spencer insists. "This is our child's name. We can't just look at a big book of names and say, 'Huh, I like Jackson. Let's call him Jackson.' What if we look at him and he isn't a Jackson?"

Toby shrugs. "I do kind of like Jackson."

"Jackson was an example!" She exclaims. "Look, all I'm saying is we can't count our chickens before they've hatched. I don't want to name him something that isn't his name."

"So why don't we pick out a few, then, and choose the one that fits him best once he's born?" Toby suggests and Spencer contemplates this for a moment before nodding.

"I knew I married you for a reason."

They settle on Jack, Samuel, and Liam and then two minutes later, she's suffering through one of the worst contractions thus far, gripping the door handle as Toby changes lanes. "God, they're two minutes apart, now. You have to hurry."

"We're still at least fifteen minutes away," Toby tells her. "I'm doing what I can, but-"

"Oh my God!" She shrieks and Toby begins to panic.

"What? What?" He glances at her and back at the road in a swivel pattern. "What? What's wrong?"

"My water just broke," Spencer says, her face twisted in pain. "Oh my God, hurry. Please hurry."

"I'm hurrying," Toby insists. "And note to self- the towels were a good idea."

She chuckles but it soon turns into a groan of pain as another contraction rages like wildfire. "Distract me. Distract me!"

"Um, I… I…" Toby searches for a subject and then frowns when he realizes the answer's been there all along. "Well, a nice long talk with my father finally revealed what I've always been thinking and secretly hoped wasn't true. He thinks I'm a disappointment and you're too good for me."

"You're joking," She emits through gritted teeth. "You better be fucking joking."

"I wish I was," Toby says. "I mean, I've been a disappointment since the day I moved out, but I always thought I'd built a nice life for myself and he'd be happy for me. For us. But he's just waiting for you to realize you're so much better than I am-"

"That's fucking bullshit."

"- and take the kids and leave me-"

"Never in a million fucking years."

"- so I'll come crawling back to him and he can say 'I told you so'." Toby finishes. "That's what my father sees when he looks at us. I can't believe anyone could."

"I'm sorry," She laments. "I'm so, so sorry and if anything, he's the one who doesn't deserve you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I can't stand when he does this to you. I really can't."

"Honestly, it didn't really surprise me." Toby says. "It didn't hurt like it usually does. It irritated me, but… I don't know. Maybe after all these years, I'm finally becoming immune."

Her heart breaks for him and she sighs. "Toby…"

"It doesn't matter," He shakes his head. "He's taught me a lot, anyway. My son is never going to feel like this. Nothing he does will ever make me see him as a disappointment. I don't care if he has a respectable job or if he goes to clown school or if he throws away his education and wants to backpack across Europe. He's never going to be a failure. I'm going to love him anyway."

"I know you are," Spencer says. "Because that's the kind of person you are. It's the kind of person you've always been. But I don't think you learned that from your Dad. I think you learned it from your Mom."

He glances over at her and smiles and she sends one right back. But their nice moment doesn't last too long. She's in searing pain moments later. "I can't. It's like every other minute now."

"Here," Toby reaches over and unbuckles her seatbelt. "Get comfortable."

She exhales heavily, saying, "Asterisk."

"Yeah, okay, as comfortable as you can be," He replies. "We'll be there in ten."

"Ten?" She moans. "I'm not going to make it. I'm going to have the baby in the car."

"You're not going to have the baby in the car," Toby shakes his head. "You're not, because I do not know how to deliver a baby."

"I do all the work, you just catch," Spencer says. "Oh my God, I'm going to give birth in the car."

"Do not give birth in the car."

"I'm going to. I'm going to."

"Well, let me at least pull over first."

"Don't pull over! Do not stop this car."

"But you just said-"

"I need to get to the hospital now."

"I'm trying!" Toby frets. "I'm trying. I'm seriously doing 80 right now."

"I know, and I love you for it, but please do 85," Spencer begs. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Please don't have the baby in the car."

"I'm trying not to," Spencer breathes and then groans. "Oh my God, I have to push."

"No, don't!" Toby demands, his eyes wide. "Please don't! Do not have this baby in the car. You can't have this baby in the car!"

"Stop yelling at me," Spencer breathes. "You're not helping."

"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to. I'm not," He insists. "Just… What do you want me to do? Do you want me to pull over? I will."

"Will we still have to pay for use of the hospital if I give birth on the side of the road?" Spencer asks and when Toby glances over at her, there's a wry grin on her face.

He chuckles. "How are you making jokes right now?"

"Don't pull over," She shakes her head. "Just keep driving. I have to push. I have to but… I won't. I won't, just keep driving."

"Okay. Okay, we're almost there," Toby says. "I can see it in the distance."

"Good, because this is the weirdest feeling ever," Spencer tells him. "I can feel it."

"You can feel what? The baby?"

"The baby's head," She replies. "He's right there. We need to go."

They pull up to the hospital minutes later and Toby rushes inside for nurses and a wheelchair. When they return to the car, Spencer's shaking her head, saying, "I can't move. I literally can't move. If I do, this baby is literally going to fall out of me."

"Well, he took his time getting here," A nurse comments. "But when he wants out, he wants out!"

"Here, let me help you," Toby says and hooks an arm around her torso, shifting her with some difficulty from the car to the wheelchair. "You okay?"

"As okay as I can be," She shrugs and breathes through a painful contraction. "Don't leave my side."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

A nurse slips on a latex glove and reaches in the direction of her nether regions, asking, "May I?"

And normally she would be a bit wary of doing this in the middle of the parking lot for the entire world to see, but she's managed not to give birth in the car and she mostly doesn't care, anymore. "Go for it."

After just a touch, the nurse shakes her head and says, "Yeah, the head's maybe an inch away from the cervix. We're going to bypass triage and send her straight to L&D."

They wheel her inside and take her to the closest empty room to change into a hospital gown, but the hallway to Labor & Delivery is the farthest they get. Before she can be hooked up to a fetal heart monitor, before she can be propped up in a bed, her feet in stirrups, before she can even make it to the delivery room, she grips the side of the wheelchair she's sitting in and announces, "I can't wait any longer. I have to push."

"Honey, do what you feel." One of her nurses tells her, slipping on fresh latex gloves. "I bet this baby will be out in five pushes, max."

He's out in two. The entire hallway is filled with the fresh cry of a newborn a mere five minutes after they'd arrived at the hospital. The nurse wipes a bit of blood and amniotic fluid from the baby's nose and mouth and places the squirming infant on Spencer's chest, announcing excitedly, "Congratulations! It's a boy!"

Spencer kisses his tiny forehead exhaustedly and turns to Toby, saying, "Told you so."

He chuckles and cuts the umbilical cord, saying, "You're always right, aren't you?"

"About these things, yes," She reaches for him and he comes willingly, meeting her lips halfway. "I love you. Thank you for getting me here. You're my hero."

"You're welcome," He smiles languidly. "And as usual, that was the most amazing thing I've ever seen and I love you so, so much."

Dr. Campbell's in the hallway then, and she lets out a laugh. "Well… Your little guy finally showed up, huh?"

"Finally," Spencer replies and Toby nods along.

"And he just couldn't wait for me," Dr. Campbell jokes. "Heard you almost gave birth in the car."

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "Gave us quite the heart attack."

"Well, I'm glad you waited, Baby Cavanaugh," Dr. Campbell grins. "Hallways are so much better."

Dr. Campbell does get the stellar job of delivering the afterbirth and when all is said and done, everyone is cleaned up and sent to recovery. They fit both the baby and his parents with matching hospital bracelets and swaddle the infant up tight, slipping a tiny blue hat upon his little head. Nestled in his mother's arms, their little one yawns and snuggles in tight, ready for his first official nap. Toby's seated right beside Spencer on the bed and he glances at their tiny and perfect son, asking, "So… Jack, Samuel or Liam?"

Spencer considers all three before looking at their baby and deciding, "He's a Henry."

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "He's definitely a Henry."

A day goes by and family members and friends alike come to meet baby Henry and hear, in dramatic detail, the grand tale of his birth. Hanna, Emily and Aria bring flowers and presents and her parents stay for hours, cooing over the little one, and Melissa holds onto him and promises to always be his favorite aunt (Spencer doesn't have the heart to tell her she really doesn't have any competition). Grace and Lilly each take a turn holding their little brother and the kisses and cuddles are endless, so Spencer and Toby know Henry will fit in just fine. She takes a moment to post a picture of the newborn on her Instagram- because it's been a year, now, and she's still obsessed- and she gets couple dozen likes and many comments offering her congratulations. It's been a whirlwind of a few days and she can't wait to tell this little one the story of how he was almost born in the front seat of their family car when he's just a little older.

"You know what the best part of yesterday was, Henry?" Spencer asks him as he looks up at her, wide-eyed. "Besides you finally making your grand appearance, of course. It was that you got me and Daddy out of that terrible party."

Henry coos and drools and she grins. "See, this is something you're going to learn very quickly, but your Daddy's Daddy hasn't ever actually been nice to him. And that's something I never understood, because you and I both know that your Daddy is like the best person on this planet, right?"

The baby smiles and she chuckles. "Right. So you decided you wanted to come yesterday, right in the middle of the party, when you heard your grandfather being super mean to him. And it got me thinking. You and I are going to be a team, we're going to be like partners in crime; we'll be Daddy's defensive duo. No one's going to badmouth him on our watch, right? We'll get jackets made. I'm thinking leather sleeves."

Henry blinks and grins at her and she laughs, kissing his tiny cheeks. "But you don't care what they're made of, do you? 'Cause you're just going to throw up on it anyway!"

A knock on the door interrupts her and when she glances over, her eyes go wide. "Mr. Cavanaugh?"

Daniel nods and enters slowly, a bouquet of carnations in his hand. "Hi Spencer. I, um, I brought these for you."

"Thank you," She says politely and unconsciously clutches the baby a bit closer to her. "Toby's not here. He went to go get us some lunch. Hospital food is disgusting."

"That it is," Daniel nods and then there's silence between them. "Well… Congratulations on the baby. He's very cute."

"Thanks," She says quietly. "I'm sorry I said what I said when we were leaving."

"No," Daniel sighs. "Truth is, you're not wrong. But… I would like to get to know my grandkids. They're the only ones I've got."

Spencer's speechless, a state not many can render her to. Finally, she asks, "Would you like to hold Henry?"

Daniel pauses but nods, setting the flowers down on her bedside table. "I would love that."

She shifts the baby into his awaiting arms and then decides she simply cannot hold it in any longer. "Mr. Cavanaugh… I love your son very much. And I know that you and I don't have many things in common, but that is one of them."

He glances up at her and meets her eyes. They're the same piercing blue as her husband's without the warmth and protectiveness Toby brings. She goes on. "And so is wanting what's best for him. I know you don't think I am. But you have to know that… Your son has done more for me than anyone ever has in my whole life. He's been endlessly supportive, loving, caring, generous, selfless… I could go on and on. He's helped me battle my own demons and pulled me from rock bottom time and time again. He's been my safe place to land for sixteen years. I know you're waiting for me to wake up and walk away. But… You just don't walk away from someone like that."

Daniel is silent and the baby begins to fuss in his arms. Spencer reaches for him instantly and he's back in her arms. "You should be proud of the man Toby's become instead of focusing on the seventeen-year-old boy who moved out of your house, the one who 'threw his life away', as you put it. He's hardworking, he's dedicated, he's determined and he's the best husband and father I could ever ask for. I love him. I respect him. And that's why I hope you'll understand when I tell you that being a part of your grandchildren's lives isn't wholly up to me. It's up to him, too. And I need you to be the father he's always needed before you can be a grandfather. I need you two to reconcile before I let you come near our kids."

Daniel sighs heavily and frowns, but says, "I understand that."

"I hope you do," Spencer nods. "I hope you'll reach out to him, because he says it doesn't bother him anymore, but I know it does. You don't get used to rejection, no matter how many times you've heard it before."

"I'll call him," Daniel says gruffly. "We'll talk."

"Good. I hope it works out," Spencer tells him. "And Mr. Cavanaugh?"

He pauses in the doorway. "What?"

"If you ever treat my kids the way you treat yours, it will be the last thing you ever do," Spencer warns him. "Toby doesn't need me to fight this battle for him, but my children? You best believe I will fight for them, tooth and nail."

"That won't be necessary," He assures her.

She states, "It better not be."

He looks her right in the eye and she swears he's going to say something else, but at long last, he departs without another word. She lets out a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding and realizes her hands are shaking. That man still scares the living shit out of her. Glancing down at Henry, she says, "I have no idea how your Daddy came from that man."

And then, another knock on the door signals Toby's return. He's got a bag full of food and an expression on her face she can't read. "You're never going to believe this. I just ran into my Dad downstairs."

"Really?" She feigns nonchalance as he sits beside her and unveils their lunch. "That's strange. What did he say?"

"He offered me congratulations and asked if I wanted to come over for dinner this week," He shakes his head. "I said no, obviously."

"Toby, you have to go," Spencer insists. "Come on, this could be the chance you've been waiting for to finally settle things with him."

"I don't need to sit through a dinner where Heather makes awkward small talk and my Dad continues to badmouth you and our life together," Toby insists. "Her meatloaf certainly isn't good enough to sit through that psychological torture."

"I really think this could be it, though," Spencer prods him even further. "I think he's ready to turn over a new leaf."

Toby eyes her and asks, "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Spencer shakes her head. "Can I have your pickle?"

"Yes," He hands it over. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Spencer tells him. "Please just go have dinner with him."

"Okay," He sighs. "Okay, but I'm not going to like it."

"I didn't say you had to like it."

"Seriously, what did you do?"

"We may have had a conversation," Spencer shrugs. "But it's fine. It didn't end badly."

"What did he say to you?" Toby asks. "I swear to God, if he hurt you-"

"He didn't, I promise," Spencer tells him. "I just think this dinner could be good for you."

"Fine," He lets it go. "But can we stop talking about this now? We just had a baby, for God's sake."

"We did," She coos. "A tiny, little, perfect human and we're not having anymore."

Toby chuckles. "That's fine with me. I think our little family is complete, now."

"Henry, we're a bunch of crazies," Spencer tells their son. "Good luck."

Henry lets out a tiny giggle. He's along for the ride.