November

…

It's cold and it's dark and Liz hates everything.

Jack won't stop hovering. They're both on edge, anxious for the moment when it'll be time to go, and between the two of them there is enough angst to power a small appliance. In the past few days, Liz and Jack have taken to blankly watching QVC and pacing, respectively. Her due date is tomorrow and she is ready. They both are more than ready.

Jack has just left the apartment in search of fresh air and a mixed drink, and has sent Jenna in his place. Liz wonders if this is a good idea, because right now her body feels disconnected from her brain, (who knows if she'll be able to control what comes out of her mouth) but she does some deep breathing exercises and is somewhat calmed by the time her friend shows up.

Jenna removes her jacket and drapes it over the back of the chair. In a rare show of sympathy, she asks about someone else's feelings before her own.

"Hi, Liz, how are you feeling?"

Jenna has dropped by several times over the past few months, full of set stories and complaints about Tracy. Though she hasn't said it outright, Liz can tell that Jenna misses her. Or she probably just can't wait to be a godmother so that she can try to extend her power over some new victim.

This train of thought is not helping Liz's mood, and besides, she hates that everyone thinks she needs to be babysat.

"Fat and crabby."

"Oh. Well…maybe I'll just sit over there." Jenna had been about to sit on the couch, but thinks she would feel safer from the nearby chair.

"You're safe; you aren't the one who made me fat or crabby."

Jenna laughs nervously. "Everything okay with you and Jack?"

Liz shrugs. "I'm enormously pregnant. Everything he says pisses me off. It's fine. How are things going with Paul?"

Nothing gets Jenna going like the topic of her wifsband, and Liz has do to very little for the next hour besides nod, smile, and wish that this baby would come already.

…

"Jack?"

He freezes. "Yes, Lemon?"

"It's time."

…

When Jack and Liz welcome their daughter into the world, they remember that love is something to be felt.

It is the fifteenth of November—a cold autumn's Friday. It is the day when Alice Margaret Donaghy joins the world. It is the day when Liz becomes a mother; the day Jack becomes a father.

It is the day when a mother cries silent tears of happiness, as she nurses her daughter for the first time; the day when a man looks at the woman he had loved for so long just to find out how much he has underestimated the concept of love so far.

If it's a dream, no one feels like waking up.

…

For the second time in his life, Jack Donaghy is speechless.

The first time had been earlier this year, when he had seen Liz Lemon walking down the aisle in her silk wedding dress, smiling broadly. He remembers thinking that no one in the history of the universe could have looked more breathtaking.

This time he is standing in the doorway of the hospital room. She is sitting up in bed, her face illuminated by sunlight streaming through the windows as if nature itself wants to give her a spotlight. She looks exhausted, but to Jack she is beautiful. She doesn't see him in the doorway; all her attention is focused on the baby in her arms. The tiny figure looks back at her as she suckles on her breast.

"You're staring," Liz teases when she finally notices his presence. "It's not as if you've never seen my boobs before, Jack."

Jack walks to her side and kisses her tenderly. "I've never seen you use them to feed a baby, Lemon. Hello, little Alice, it's me, your dad."

He sits in a chair beside the bed and strokes their daughter's head, taking pride in the fact that the baby already has great hair. Brown hair. His daughter has brown hair. He cannot believe that he has a daughter.

"How does it feel to be a mom, Lemon?"

"Wonderful." Her eyes shine with love as she glances down at their baby, who has stopped nursing and fallen asleep. "I'm also a little nervous. Or a lot nervous. Even with all the parenting research I've done over the past nine months, I still don't feel totally prepared to be a mother."

He touches her hand. "We'll learn as we go along. Don't forget that I've never done this before, either. You'll be an amazing mother."

She leans over to kiss his cheek. "Thanks, Jack."

"Thank you for having my baby." He gives her another kiss.

"Your baby? I contributed just as much genetic material as you did."

"Fine, you're right. She's our baby," he concedes.

"God, that sounds good. Our baby. I hope she'll have your brains."

"I hope she'll have your creativity," he says.

During labor, there was minimal name-calling, a bit of groaning (not entirely from Liz), and some hair-pulling. But now Alice is here, and she is so small, so beautiful, so theirs. Jack sees a miniature Liz in her already—he has a sudden vision of the two running errands wearing matching cardigan sweaters—in her nose, her mouth; in the screwy badger face that she makes before she nurses.

Except for the eyes.

Alice has startling blue eyes, bright for a newborn. Jack's had small chances here and there to peer into them before their thin lids flutter shut for a nap, and he smiles with pride every time. He sees himself in his daughter's eyes, sure, but more than anything he sees the chance to raise someone wonderful and good. He will make sure that all of Alice's needs are met, as well as many of her wants, and he knows that Liz will be there all along to keep him in line.

And the baby has his eyes.

…

Liz finds herself thinking back to that dream she'd had, all those years ago.

"I never thought this day would come, Lizzie."

Okay, so Tracy had been there too, which was weird. Not to mention Meat Cat. But Jack's part in the dream had seemed solid and real to her, and in a way the dream was a sort of prediction. Either way, the day had come, and here they were.

Parents.

…