A/N: Hope you all enjoy and have a great week ahead!

August 4, 2001 | Elizabeth

They were sitting at the breakfast table—Henry was reading the papers from the news that Elizabeth had just finished, and Elizabeth was reading the others before handing them off to him. This was their typical routine whenever they actually had a chance to sit down and eat together, and it was nice just having this moment to sit and enjoy a breakfast with her husband on a quiet Saturday morning.

The girls were off with Isabelle—after much bribing and begging, they'd finally gotten her to babysit for the weekend. The baby's due date was today, and when the contractions started last night, Isabelle came to pick them up and take them to her apartment.

Henry set the papers down and sighed somewhat dramatically, "I know that this is the third, but are you as nervous as I am?"

She snorted at him, lowering her own papers enough to see him over the top of the pages, "Of course I'm nervous." She admitted, "But I'm not as nervous as I was with the other two—especially not as nervous as I was with Stevie." She said and rolled her eyes, "I could've passed out from how scared I was after the contractions started."

He laughed, "I thought you were going to there for a while." He said, "But then you waited so long to go to the hospital—I wasn't sure we were going to make it there. I was really afraid you'd have her right there in the car."

Grinning, she reached for the bacon on her plate and took a bite out of it, "We made it though." She said, raising her brows proudly.

"We did." He said, then scooted his chair over to beside where she was. He leaned down and took her belly in both hands, staring it down, "Young man," He said sternly, "I need you to come today."

She laughed at that, then folded her paper up and set it on the table. "And why's that?" She asked, "That is, if I'm allowed to join in on the conversation between two men." She teased.

"Because I'm impatient." He said quickly, "And I want to meet my son."

"Oh, that's all…" She said jokingly, then let her hand play in his hair a bit while observing the watch on her wrist—she was noting that a contraction was starting, and did some quick math to know that it's only been six minutes since the last one.

Henry must have felt her muscles seizing up because he looked at her, alarmed, "Another?" He asked, knowing that she'd just had one a few minutes ago since he caught her looking at her watch religiously.

She nodded, counting the seconds silently, not speaking to not lose track of the number. When she counted to forty-two, she sighed, "Six minutes apart and that one was forty-two seconds."

"Getting there." He said, then presses his lips to her stomach. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Other than the burning in my abdomen?" She asked sarcastically, ripping off another piece of bacon with her teeth, "Yeah, I'm okay."

That was the truth. She felt really at peace with this baby, knowing that it would be their last, especially. With Stevie, she was stressed because not only was it their first kid, but she was also almost a week late arriving. Ali surprised them a week earlier than her due date on Easter Sunday, so that was a bit stressful, too. Somehow, when her contractions started last night, she knew that this baby would be on time. This would be her "easy delivery," she felt, if there was such a thing as an easy delivery.

After she'd finished her breakfast and finished reading the paper, she got up and put her dishes in the sink, then made her way to the bathroom for what felt like the fiftieth time already this morning. When she comes back, she's laughing a little, "Your son is ready." She said, holding onto the doorway as another contraction was making her back ache too bad to stand straight, "Water broke—and another contraction is happening." She said, sounding even more calm than she felt. "Which makes the contractions now four minutes apart, and this has been going on for about forty-five seconds, but I stopped counting because I started talking to you."

He was only halfway listening, she could tell, because he had jumped up from his chair and started gathering things up. He got the hospital bag from the couch, was talking out loud and going through a checklist with himself, and he started walking out the door without her.

"Um, Henry?" She said, "You forgetting something?"

He turned quickly and laughed, "I don't know how you're not freaking out." He said, walking back to help her to the door.

She shrugged, "I think it's different with sons." She admitted as they made their way out to the car, "It's a different feeling."

They didn't know the gender when Stevie was arriving, but they'd been able to find out the gender with Alison and Jason, both. When they found out it was another girl a few years ago, Elizabeth felt nervous again—two girls. It was hard to explain, but she felt like sometimes more responsibility is put on raising girls when you're the mother, and more on the father when it's a boy. Maybe that was traditional of her to think that way, but patriarchal norms still existed.

"I think you might be right." He said, helping her get in the car. He shut the door and walked to the driver's side, getting in and continuing his thought, "My dad was just—" He shrugged as he turned the car on and buckled up, "He wasn't there for us—none of us. But my sisters had my mom, and my mom tried to be there for us boys, but it just wasn't the same."

She reached her hand out to his arm, brushing her fingers along the skin underneath the hem of his cuff, "You're not your dad, Henry." She whispered, "You're going to be a great dad to this little boy, just as you are to our little girls."

November 11, 2022 | Elizabeth

She'd always told everyone to get the epidural early. That was even the last thing she told Jay before he went on leave for Annaliese to have their baby, just as she'd told him that all those years ago when Chloe was about to arrive.

However, in the fog of this last week's events, it never crossed her mind to even ask for an epidural until she was about six centimeters dilated early this morning.

Willow's heartrate had finally gotten to 112 at around nine last night, and Dr. Gorrell wanted to keep the cesarean on the back burner as a last-ditch effort. She'd explained something about the stress it would put on Elizabeth's body, but she was too tired to really listen. She just trusted Dr. G to know what she was doing at this point—it was out of her hands. She knew Henry was listening, though, because he was actually giving feedback to the things the doctor was telling them, so she trusted him to push back against anything that seemed dangerous.

She glances over to the clock and sees that it's now eight in the morning, which meant the nurse would come back any time now and see how far she's gotten since the last time.

"We're having a baby today." She told Henry this morning after Dr. Gorrell confirmed she was six centimeters at about four this morning.

Henry squeezed her hand, "Yeah, I believe you're right."

She had been trying to push the pain away from her mind this entire time, but the epidural was just not doing a great job at this point—this still was the worst pain she'd ever felt. The worst one was Stevie, though, because she had gotten to the hospital too late to get an epidural at all. She swore then that she would never have one naturally again, and she had held onto that promise for both babies that followed.

She grips the sheets underneath her, trying to suppress a groan that felt like it had originated all the way down in her ankles. "Oh, Henry…" She whimpers, trying to not break a tooth from the way she was clenching her jaws.

He sighs and brushes her hair from her face, holding on to her other hand and letting her squeeze it whenever the pain got too bad. They'd joked at some point earlier that she'd lost some grip strength between this baby and Jason. "I always felt like you were going to break my hand," He admitted earlier.

"I always felt like my entire lower half of my body was going to fall off."

"Point taken." Henry said, nodding and raising his brow.

"I'm sorry, babe." He murmured, sitting back down on the chair beside her bed, "It's almost over."

"I know." She replied, "I just hope she is okay."

The nurse knocks on the door and comes on in, giving Elizabeth and Henry a soft smile and then wincing when she hears Elizabeth let out a deep growl. "Is the epidural not working?" She asks.

Elizabeth shakes her head and opens her eyes to see a different nurse from the one before. "Of course they've changed," she thinks to herself. They always have a shift change at 7:30, morning and night. "No." She manages, "I mean, it's working a little, but there's still a lot of pressure."

The nurse kept talking as she was examining, and finally she took her gloves off and looks at the two of them, "You're at ten." She says.

Dr. Gorrell had already warned them that there would be a lot of extra people in the room during the actual birth—a NICU nurse was among those people, and a doctor who specialized in that kind of thing that they had shipped in from somewhere else. Elizabeth had been shocked at the time that they were bringing all these people to Walter Reed from elsewhere, but when her brother, Will, stopped by yesterday he reminded her that she was, after all, the President of the United States. All these extra people, Dr. G said, were to carefully monitor the birth and ensure that nothing happened. At the slightest chance of anything dangerous, they would have an emergency C-section.

August 4, 2001 | Henry

They'd gotten checked in and put back into a delivery room, and sure enough, Elizabeth was progressed far enough to start an epidural and get things rolling. Of course, then, it was just a waiting game until it actually came time—Henry remembered the waiting for her body to slowly adjust and allow a whole child to enter the world. It felt agonizing to wait, but it felt even more agonizing to watch her in pain.

With this baby, though, there was no panic in her eyes. She looked completely calm, like she was a seasoned pro at this child birthing thing. She'd been reading a book in between the really bad contractions, and she'd even talked to the girls on the phone at one point and let Isabelle know that they had gone to the hospital and it wouldn't be a whole lot longer until the baby came.

"What do you think he'll be?" She said to him, setting her book down again on her lap and shifting. He could tell that her back was aching by the way she was fidgeting, and he wished he could reach it to rub it and make it feel better. "A Nicholas or a Jason?"

He smiled at her attempt to take her mind off the pain, "I mean, St. Nicholas? He could be named after Santa Claus." He teased, adding to the light mood to take her mind off the aches.

She snorted at him and nodded, "Of course, the likelihood of him being a saint is slim, but he always could be the next St. Nicholas. Hopefully he doesn't start climbing down people's chimneys, though, that'd be a little weir—ahh…" She groaned, leaning forward and grabbing her lower back. "Sorry, that one hurt."

He squeezed his hand between the bed and her back, rubbing it the best that he could. "Don't apologize," He said, "I'm sorry you're hurting."

"I just keep telling myself that this is the last time." She said, "And honestly, I think I'm able to enjoy it a little more knowing that. I am trying to savor it. This is the last time my—gah!" She whimpered, clenching her eyes shut for a moment and then shaking it off, "The last time that my body will do this amazing thing."

He smiled at her, wishing that he could take the pain from her and take all that pain himself. He would give anything to bear the pain if it meant she didn't have to. This was the worst part of all her pregnancies: knowing that he was completely helpless when it came to anything before the babies being out in the world, able to hold them in their arms. Then, and only then, could Henry protect them—but right now, he couldn't help anyone. All he could do was let her know how much he appreciated what she was doing. "It is a bittersweet moment, isn't it?" He agreed. "I can't say I won't be glad that I never have to watch you go through this pain again, though." He said as he watched her clench her jaw, visibly holding back a scream.

"Yeah," She said and laughed quietly, "I won't miss the pain part." She said, "But this is still better than it was with Stevie. That one will be the worst." She said and shook her head, "Whoever invented the epidural…man, I'd like to kiss 'em."

He laughed and brushed her hair from her face as she tensed up again, and he knew it had to be almost time for the delivery. He'd witnessed this too many times now to know she was getting close.

"Henry," She said suddenly, a little shock in her voice, "I think—I—" She was stuttering, and it startled him because she had been so calm. "I think the baby is coming."

"Of course he is."

"No, I mean right now." She said, reaching down to feel and looking at him with wide eyes, "He's coming now."

Henry quickly rushed to the hall and was frantically telling anyone who would listen that his wife was literally about to give birth, and about two minutes later, her doctor arrived.

At 11:33, the baby was laid on Elizabeth's chest, her hands grabbing his sweet little body and instinctually checking for all fingers and toes. "Oh my…" She whimpered, looking over at Henry briefly, then back to the baby. "This is a Jason."

He smiled, wiping a tear from his eye with his free hand, his other hand resting on top of hers on Jason's back. "This is definitely a Jason."

November 11, 2022 | Elizabeth

She had to look and be sure that it was her own heart monitor that was beating so fast and not Willow's. She was past nervous—she was scared, and maybe even desperately so. She didn't want to lose this baby, of course, but she knows that this delivery is the riskiest she has had.

She looks over at Henry who was watching her attentively, checking the monitor, too, when he heard the heartbeat rise. "I don't want to let you down," She'd told him whenever the nurse had left to go get Dr. Gorrell and all the other people.

"You could never possibly do that, babe." He replied to her, squeezing her hand before kissing her forehead. "No matter what happens today, know that you never, ever have let me down."

She still feels like she's in a haze of some sorts—she thinks it's probably something to do with the medicines that she's been pumped with and the anxiety of the whole situation. They've been giving her instructions of what to do for the last ten minutes, but Elizabeth was getting tired—her body was getting tired. She was starting to panic more and more whenever she felt the pressure and burning start getting lower and lower.

Reaching for Henry's hand with her other hand, knowing he was already holding one. She starts to speak, but he cuts her off, "Babe," He whispers to her, but his voice is stern, she can tell. She looks at him and bats her eyes, blinking tears away. She's not sure when the tears started, and whether it was from the pain or the fear—or just a good mix of both. "You have to keep pushing."

"If I don't," She says, "She stays safe. Forever. Right?"

He shakes his head, and the look he's giving her makes her wonder if she's gone crazy. Maybe she has. "No, honey, she needs to come out to be safe." He explains, "She's going to be safest here in the hospital where she can work on getting strong enough to leave."

She sniffles and takes in what he was saying, hearing other voices around her talking to her, but completely unable to acknowledge them. She'd never felt so childish in her adult life—well, there were a few other times, but certainly not in this position had she felt so childish. She knew she wasn't thinking straight, though, so she just listened to Henry's voice. She was pretty sure he was repeating what the other voices were saying, anyway—which was just the simple word "Push."

Her fingers dug into Henry's hand and his arm, holding onto him with both of her hands the best that she could. Her mind started getting fuzzier as she felt this immense burning—a burning she'd known before. This was familiar, she was able to think that it was, at least. A moment after she did what Henry was telling her once more, she heard people scrambling and machines beeping. "What's going on?" She asks Henry, her voice sounding too thick to be her own.

He wasn't looking at her face, but was looking down toward the end of the bed, "She's here, Elizabeth, she's here." He whispers, leaning down and kissing her forehead.

Elizabeth looks down and doesn't see the baby on her chest, like the other three, and she looks back at Henry, "Where is she?"

He points over to the wall where there were a few nurses surrounding a table, "They took her over there."

"Why isn't she crying?" The silence made her heart sink to her stomach, and she was suddenly more aware of the situation around her. "Henry, why isn't she crying?" She asks more desperately, trying to sit up but met with an urgent voice telling her not to move.

"We knew she wouldn't cry yet, honey," Henry explains softly. The way he was talking to her, she could tell he was trying to balance between infantilizing her and dumbing it down for her to understand right now in this weird, lucid state.

She looks at the table where all the people were still moving around, and she is completely ignoring the people working on her own body. "I just need to know if she's going to be okay." She whimpers, "Is she going to be okay, Henry?"

He shifts their hands around so that he's holding hers instead of the other way around, and he gives a gentle squeeze. "If she's as tough as her mom, she'll be okay." He says.

It was getting really hard to hold her eyes open, and she looks at him before saying, "I don't feel so good."

A familiar voice, she thinks it's Dr. Gorrell, maybe, comes closer to her head and is asking her questions, but as soon as Elizabeth's eyes were closed, she was out. She couldn't hear a thing.

When she wakes up again, she feels a panic rush over her. She tries to sit up, but is met with pain and an achiness over her whole body.

"Elizabeth," Henry says, standing up from the chair beside her, still holding her hand, "Honey, are you okay?" He asks frantically.

She looks around and is trying to catch her breath, "Where's Willow?" She asks.

Henry lets out a sigh, and she hopes that isn't a bad sign. "She's in the NICU right now, babe." He explains gently, "She was still only thirty-three weeks and still tiny—God, she's tiny, babe." He whispers, and she watches as a tear falls down his cheek. "Dr. Gorrell said that the best NICU doctor in the nation is taking care of her as we speak. If anyone can help her, it's him."

She sniffles and lets her body relax again, trying to not pay attention to the feeling of her heart breaking in her chest. "I didn't get to see her." She whimpers, letting out a quiet, tired sob. She knows how tired she sounds—it reminds her of when Alison came home that first day of kindergarten and sobbed in her lap, telling Elizabeth she was never going to go back. She had slept like a rock that night, though, and Elizabeth knew she was just exhausted from all the emotions of going to her first day of school all by herself.

"Dr. Gorrell said that once you got some rest in that you could be wheeled in to see her." Henry says, "Do you feel up to it?"

"Even if I didn't, I wouldn't say no." She admits, "I want to see her."

He smiles at her determination and presses a kiss to her temple, "I'll go get a nurse."

They didn't want to wheel her through the hospital for people to gawk at her, and of course they couldn't bring Willow to her room, so the Bill suggested that they wrap her head as though she's just had surgery on her face—that way no one would be able to tell it was her. It worked, thankfully, and Elizabeth was once again in debt to Bill's quick thinking.

But she would think of a way to thank him later, though, because she's rolled into Willow's little area where she was lying in an incubator, hooked up to all sorts of wires and machines, and the world's tiniest diaper was wrapped around her. She covers her mouth just as she lets a sob out of her mouth. She had told herself she would keep it together, but seeing how tiny she really was made it incredibly hard.

She reaches in the little hole to touch her, "Hi sweet girl" She whispers, sniffling and trying to keep it together. "I am so sorry you're in there."

Henry was rubbing her shoulders behind her the entire time, and he finally squats down and wraps his arms around her shoulders and chest, being careful to not restrict her movement to get to Willow. "The doctor said her heartbeat is doing much better than it was before, so she's improving." He explains, "Her lungs need a little help, but so far, she's been a trooper."

She lets her hand slide to Willow's tiny little fingers, subconsciously counting five fingers on each hand, and five toes on each foot. "She's a trooper." She confirms, and Willow wriggles a little whenever Elizabeth speaks.

A smile comes across her face as she rubs the back of Willow's tiny hand. "She hears me. That's a good sign." She says, and then she watches as Willow wraps those four fingers around Elizabeth's finger the best she could.

She looks back at Henry quickly, "Do you see this?" She asks, already moving her head back to watch Willow.

"I see," Henry whispers, sniffling behind her. "She's strong, just like her mother."

"Her father is pretty strong, too," Elizabeth reminds him.

He leans around her to kiss her cheek, resting his chin in the crook of her neck as they watch their little miracle.

"Willow Anne," She says, "We love you so much."