Hello and welcome to all my new readers/followers/whatever else you've all done! Thank you all so so much for your support! I honestly couldn't have asked for anything more. Your encouraging words are what is keeping me going. I just want us all to be clear on what's to come, though. This chapter is the last of the "set-up" chapters, you know? From here on out, the chapters are going to come quicker and are going to be shorter, like half this length. It's going to be the three of them as a family, so if that's not your thing, then no worries. You really don't have to read/review/etc. and I won't take offense. Alright did we get that out of the way? Cool.
The chapter title comes from the song "The Moment I Saw You" by Nicolette Larson. It's a lullaby and I think it's absolutely perfect to set the tone for this chapter. Like it's so sweet, I definitely recommend listening to it. And as an apology in advance for those of you with sensitive stomachs (eyes?), I'm sorry about the mucus plug line and the focus on the contractions. It's not like I'm going into graphic detail or anything, but I just wanted you to be aware. That's the real world. Labor ain't cute, kids. ;)
and welcome you here on the day you were born
"I can't believe I'm doing this."
Spencer rolls her eyes and struggles to pull her coat more firmly around her bulging frame. "Toby, they need you. And I don't. Not right now, anyway."
He shoots her a skeptical look. "You don't need me? You couldn't put your shoes on this morning."
"In my defense, I haven't been able to see my feet since Thanksgiving," Spencer points out. "Just relax. You'll only be gone three days. What is the worst that could happen?"
Toby sighs. "I can think of plenty of things that fit that description."
"Well, none of it is going to happen," Spencer promises. "And anyway, you're going to the Hamptons. That's like two or three hours away. You're not going India. If anything were to happen- which it won't- you're not that far away. I'm not worried. You shouldn't be either."
"Too late," He tells her, craning his neck to press a kiss on her lips. "I'm worried for two, now."
She smiles, a hand on her stomach. "We'll be waiting for you when you get back."
He covers her hand with his, saying, "You stay in there, got it? You've got three weeks yet. Don't give your mother too much trouble."
"Drive carefully. And call me when you get there?" Spencer asks and when he nods she pulls him as close to her as he can get for a hug. "I love you."
"I love you, too," He murmurs. "And if anything happens-"
"I will call you immediately. I promise," She vows.
Toby kisses her one last time before departing and Spencer's left in their empty apartment. His boss had recently ordered all hands on deck to restore a rec center in East Hampton and though he'd tried hard to get out of it, it was to no avail. It's January 7th and Spencer isn't due for another three weeks, so she hadn't even balked when he'd told her. She loves him to death but truthfully she's looking forward to the alone time, even if it's only for a handful of days. She has plenty of work to catch up on and things to get together for their infant's upcoming arrival; she isn't going to use these days as a mere vacation. Soon, she and Toby's lives would most likely be flipped on their axes and she couldn't imagine how she'd be productive then. Therefore, these next few days were to be busy and prolific.
At least, that is the original plan. But the next morning, six-fifteen on January 8th, Spencer wakes up to a horrible stomachache that comes and goes in waves. It isn't until she practically crawls to the bathroom and promptly loses her mucus plug that she realizes she's probably in the earliest stage of labor. "Oh no. Oh my god, no."
To say she isn't quite prepared for this yet is an understatement. She's read all the books and has prepared herself that way, of course. Mentally, she's more than ready to have this baby and she knows everything that's going to happen from here on out. Physically and emotionally, on the other hand, she is not even the least bit ready for this. She dons a pair of super comfortable sweatpants and curls up on the couch, knowing she should rest now and conserve her energy for when she'll actually need it. Mindless television is all that's scheduled for a Saturday morning, but Spencer takes it in stride. If she focuses on that, perhaps she won't notice as her body begins to prepare itself for the miracle of life.
She does call Toby, of course, but is met with his voicemail, so she's sure he's knee deep in sawdust and hacksaws by now. Her sister and co. are still out of the country, the phone rings off the hook at her parents' house, and she can't reach Aria or Hanna. Emily, however, picks up on the first ring. "Spence?"
"Hey Em," She greets. "Thank you for being the only person around. I'm pretty sure I just went through the entirety of my contacts trying to get ahold of someone."
"No problem. What's up?"
"Are you doing anything of importance today?" She asks and can hear Emily hesitate.
"I guess so. I'm having lunch with Paige. I think we might actually try to make it work."
"Really?" Spencer exclaims. "That's great. I thought, after last time, you guys would be done for good."
"Me too. I thought I ruined it permanently, but if Paige is willing to work for it, then so am I."
"Good for you," Spencer smiles, but falters a bit as a contraction seizes her.
"Why do you ask?"
"There's a very good chance I'll be giving birth at some point today," Spencer explains. "And I was just wondering if you could maybe pass along the message. I'm going to try and reach my parents again but-"
"Wait, what? You're in labor and you're that calm about it? Spence! This is huge!"
"It's still early," She defends. "Just wait until the contractions are stronger and closer together. Will you tell the others?"
"I'll do you one better- we're getting on the next train."
Spencer grins. "You're the best."
A little after one o'clock, she finds herself still in the same position- lounging on the couch and gripping the throw pillow fiercely every time a contraction rips through her like wildfire. They're a little over fifteen minutes apart, now; she had finally gotten in touch with her parents and her father had all but had a heart attack on the phone before hanging up. She assumes they're on their way. Just as she's beginning to worry about Toby, the husband in question finally calls her back. She answers instantly and he's immediately apologetic.
"Hey. I'm so sorry. I've literally had absolutely no time to check my phone. I've barely had time to breathe. I can see why they needed me here; we're short like six people."
"Toby," She breathes his name and that's all she has to say for him to understand.
"You're kidding. You've got to be kidding. What did I say?"
"Can we please not play the 'I told you so' card?" Spencer pleads. "I need you to come home."
"Of course I'm coming home! Where are you? Are you still at home? Are you alone?"
"Yes, yes to both," She tells him. "The contractions are still pretty far apart. I won't be admitted until they get closer together."
"I'm leaving now. I'm leaving right now and I'll be home as soon as I can. Look, if they get closer, go to the hospital and don't wait for me. I'll meet you there."
"Okay," She yawns. "I'm going to try to take a nap."
"Good. Just rest. Oh my god. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it!"
"Toby, you're freaking out," Spencer comments. "You said you weren't going to."
"I'm not freaking out! I'm so calm. I wish you could see how calm I am."
She laughs. "Okay, sure. I wish you could see how much I don't believe you."
"Go take a nap and I'll be home before you know it. We're that much closer to meeting our newborn with the six-pack."
Grinning, she hangs up and tucks the phone away for later. The sleep she eventually falls into is restless, mainly because every ten or so minutes, it feels like she's being stabbed in the gut. But somehow she does manage to sleep for a good hour or so before she awakens disoriented and wondering what in the world is going on. The sky outside has darkened considerably and she's shivering, wondering if the temperature has plummeted with it. A flurry of snow is falling from the skies and Spencer frowns. If this turns into the blizzard she's expecting, it will likely delay the train her friends are on and make Toby's drive home treacherous. Just awesome and exactly what she wants.
She can no longer sleep through the pain and obviously she can't take anything for it, so she begins to time her contractions. First, she times the duration of each contraction- 55 seconds- then she measures the time in between- 8 minutes, 35 seconds- and then she runs out of things to measure, so she begins conjugating French verbs. When she grows tired of that, she begins listing off Russian czars. Then she begins to multiply random numbers by six thousand. Reciting her favorite passages of Dostoyevsky comes next, first in English, then in the original Russian. By the time she's done all of this, her contractions feel like needles being set on fire and she decides to head to the hospital.
Spencer texts Toby with her plan and makes it to the hospital by four o'clock. Surprisingly, they admit her right away, stationing her in triage as an OB/GYN on rotation comes in to check on her. Spencer's pretty sure she and this guy are the same age; he looks like he's fresh out of med school. "Good afternoon! My name's Dr. Christopher Robinson."
"Spencer Hastings," She introduces. "Where's Dr. Thomas?"
"She is currently delivering twins down the hall," Dr. Robinson grins. "I'll be filling in until she's finished."
He stations himself at the foot of her bed and the moment he begins her exam, her water breaks. He seems to think it's funny, but she flushes crimson. "I'm sorry."
"No, you couldn't have controlled it," He says. "Your waters were bulging; that would've happened had I been down there or not. You should know, though, labor's only going to get more intense from here."
"Great," Spencer sighs, reaching for her phone. There's still no word on Toby's location.
"Okay, looks like you're about 80% effaced and around five, maybe five and a half centimeters dilated," Dr. Robinson informs her. "Should be about a couple of hours until we can move you to L&D, at the rate you're going. Are you interested in the epidural?"
Spencer shakes her head. "No way."
"Alright," He smiles. "Then just sit tight, I guess."
So she does. Around four-fifteen, she gets a text from Aria saying she and the other two had gotten on the train and would be there around eight. At four-thirty, she gets a call from her mother about how her father's driving like a maniac, so if they make it alive, they'll be there soon. And finally, at four thirty-seven, she gets the call she was waiting for. "Spence, it's me. I'm finally here. Where are you?"
"Sixth floor," She says, breathing through a particularly painful contraction. "Never caught the room number. Ask for me at the front desk; they'll bring you back."
Her contractions are only three minutes apart now, so by the time he finally does get to her, she's suffering through another one. Toby practically runs to her side and slips his hand into hers, kissing her temple. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Traffic was insane and I had to stop for gas-"
"It's okay, it's okay, just please distract me from the pain," She pleads, gripping his hand like a vice. "Ask me something."
"Ask you what?"
"I don't know! Anything!"
"The states," He comes up with. "Name them all. In alphabetical order."
"Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas," She breathes through gritted teeth. "California, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia… Hawaii… Idaho…"
She slows down as the contraction ebbs away and loosens her grip on his hand. "That worked, surprisingly."
He smirks. "I'm glad. We'll save the rest for next time."
She smiles wearily at him. "This is going to be a long night."
"I'm prepared," Toby insists. "So you said it wouldn't happen…"
Spencer rolls her eyes. "Didn't I tell you not to say 'I told you so'?"
"You just hate it when I'm right."
"No, it just isn't my fault," Spencer claims. "Baby Cavanaugh decided not to heed your warning and instead to arrive three weeks early. I didn't even get a chance to put fresh sheets in the crib."
"I'll do it tomorrow," Toby tells her. "Did you call your parents?"
"And the girls," She nods. "Did you call yours?"
He hesitates, but before he can answer, another contraction slices through her. He probes instead, "Who was the thirty-second president of the United States?"
"FDR, that's easy."
"What are the six noble gases on the periodic-"
"Helium, neon, argon, krypton, xenon and radon," She hisses. "Come on, challenge me."
"What's been the most difficult part of your pregnancy so far?"
"The coffee. Definitely giving up coffee," She admits. "But this is a close second."
"You never finished the states!"
"Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine," She breathes and then she's good again. "The most difficult part of my pregnancy? That's not even trivia."
"Hey, you're the one who was in those ridiculous decathlons, not me," He defends. "I don't know what to ask you."
Dr. Robinson comes in to examine her once more a little after five thirty and introduces himself to Toby. He also gives an update on the twins- one down, one to go- and tells the couple that their doctor will be with them as soon as she can. A contraction cuts through her just as he's beginning the exam (Maryland, Massachusetts, Michigan, Minnesota, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada) and he tells her she's officially 100% effaced, but still only seven centimeters dilated. He asks for the last time if she wants an epidural, as after this moment it will no longer be an option and she once again declines. He bids her farewell and another contraction bookends his departure (New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, North Dakota, Ohio).
"Seeing you in pain is killing me," Toby openly admits. "Are you sure you don't want the drugs?"
"Newsflash Tobes, it's going to get worse before it gets better," She smiles gratefully as he mops her brow with a washcloth. "I don't want the drugs. I don't want the baby to come out all lethargic and unresponsive. I want him or her to come out screaming and crying and flailing. If that means I have to suffer for that to happen, then so be it."
"And by extension, you want me to suffer?" He teases and she shoots him a look.
"Hey, you vowed in good times and in bad," Spencer reminds him. "You're stuck with me."
"'Stuck' isn't really the word I'd use."
She smiles a bit and then asks, "You never answered me before. Did you call your parents?"
He looks away. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because they freaked out when we got engaged, they came to our wedding and complained the whole time and when I told them we were expecting, they were less than thrilled," Toby sighs. "You'd think they would care, considering it's their first grandchild, but I just honestly don't see them giving a shit. It sucks but… That's just who they are."
Spencer frowns. "And you're okay with that?"
He shrugs. "What choice do I have? They're too set in their ways now to retract."
She presses on, "Is it me? Do they not like me?"
"No! Who wouldn't like you?" Toby assures her. "It isn't you at all. It's me. They don't approve of anything I've done since I moved out years ago and they're still holding it against me. I would've thought they could bury the hatchet and be happy for me, for us, but I guess they're more immature than I thought."
Before she can respond with sympathy, she's gripping his hand for support and instead reciting, "Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, Tennessee, Texas…"
"How are we doing in here?" Their doctor, Dr. Thomas, greets. "Man, quite the night for a birthday, am I right? Your son or daughter certainly isn't alone. Must be the full moon!"
Spencer smiles weakly. Toby nods his agreement. "Please tell me we're at least close. It's almost seven."
"I'll let you know in just a few moments," Dr. Thomas announces, checking the fetal heart monitor before taking her place at the foot of the bed. "Everything seems to be in order here. Your little bugger has quite the heartbeat. Right about now is when we start to see the baby's vitals kind of drop a bit, but not yours. You've got an overachiever."
"Sounds like mom," Toby says, nudging his wife, who chuckles in response.
"Alright, you're at nine! Almost there!" Dr. Thomas cheers. "Another hour. Maybe less?"
But it's actually two hours until Dr. Thomas brings her good news; she's finally dilated to ten centimeters and they can proceed to a delivery room. Her contractions are stronger than she could have ever imagined (Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, Wisconsin, Wyoming) and even Toby's most difficult questions don't distract her anymore. They're every sixty seconds and they last about sixty seconds, so she's more or less in an endless stream of pain. Spencer tries to focus on literally anything else; the nurses bounding about, the blipping of the fetal heart monitor, the blue medical sheet they're pulling over her legs, Toby's encouraging words. Nothing is taking her mind off the pain. She hopes this kid has the best possible life imaginable, she hopes this kid lives his or her life to the fullest, because this is the hardest thing she's ever done.
There's a ring of fire igniting in her nether regions, now. It's searing and excruciating and unbearable. Dr. Thomas calls out, "Alright, the baby's crowning. You're doing great, Spencer. I can see the head! Toby, would you like to see?"
He hesitates and Spencer says, "If you look, if you so much as move from this spot, I will murder you."
It's the most menacing her voice has ever sounded and honestly, he really didn't want to sneak a peek anyway. "I'm not going anywhere. Keep it up. You're doing amazing."
"I think it's best if you don't talk to me," She says in between pushing. "I don't want to be meaner to you than I already was."
He laughs. "I don't think it gets worse than promising to kill me."
"You'd be surprised."
Somehow the pain increases exponentially, but nearly disappears as though someone's flipped a switch the second the baby's head emerges. Dr. Thomas beckons for the bulb syringe and begins to suction out the baby's nose and mouth- and then they hit a roadblock. "Spencer, I need you to stop pushing immediately. Can I get a pair of forceps, please? ASAP."
"What's wrong?" Spencer asks alarmed. "What's going on?"
"The baby's right shoulder is stuck. I'm afraid if you push anymore you'll break her collarbone," Dr. Thomas says, slipping the cool metal beneath the sheet. "Don't worry- this is not going to hurt her."
Spencer still looks fearful, but Toby asks, "Her?"
"Oh yeah," Dr. Thomas says sheepishly. "I kind of ruined the surprise, didn't I?"
The second she has a good enough grip on the baby, she motions for Spencer to push again, but only ever so gently. She does as she's told and almost instantly, the baby comes free and tumbles into the doctor's arms. Dr. Thomas immediately places the baby onto Spencer's stomach and announces, "Congratulations! It's a girl!"
She's got a head full of dark curly locks and a set of incredibly impressive lungs. The nurses wipe her down with the blue sheet, the blood and amniotic fluid and vernix giving way to her reddish pink skin and her squirming limbs. She's screaming, her entire face screwed up in anguish, but she's tiny and precious and easily the most beautiful thing Toby and Spencer have ever seen. One of the nurses asks if Toby would like to cut the umbilical cord and he nods wordlessly, taking the scissors and slicing where instructed, watching as the spongy material breaks apart and the nurses clamp the end still attached to his daughter. They carry her to the far side of the room to more adequately clean her off and take her measurements as Toby, in awe, glances at his spectacular wife.
She's absolutely spent; she's sweaty and worn and there's a kind of exhaustion in her eyes Toby's never seen before. Understandably so; her body had just worked in overdrive for over sixteen hours. He bends down and kisses her because he just can't help himself. Every time he thinks that Spencer's amazingness has reached its peak, she does something else that blows his mind and his world flips on its axis. When they're through, he whispers, "I understand if you still want to murder me, but that is the most amazing thing I've ever seen and I love you so, so much."
Spencer grins. "I love you, too. I don't want to kill you. I'm sorry I said that."
He laughs and a nurse calls, "Daddy? We've got a present for you."
Toby turns around and the nurse places the tiny bundle that is his daughter into his arms. "10:38 p.m. on January 8th, baby girl Cavanaugh made her way into the world. She's eight pounds, three ounces, twenty-two inches long. And she's beautiful. Congratulations."
"Thank you," Toby says, but his eyes don't leave his daughter. Now that she's swaddled in tight, she's perfectly content and her screaming fit is over for now. But she's taken his breath away and Toby's heard it all before- how people don't truly know what love is until they've had a child. He's heard these things, sure, but he's never understood them. Until now, of course. Because one look into the tiny, angelic face of his daughter, one mere glance at her miniature fingers curled around her blanket and her little button nose and her tiny raspberry of a mouth, has got him hooked. Everything he's ever done has paled in comparison to this very moment. Without a doubt, creating this tiny and perfect little human is the best thing he's ever done.
He kisses her forehead and tells her, "Hey little monkey. I'm your daddy… and I love you very much."
When he turns, Spencer already has tears in her eyes, but beckons, "I want to hold her!"
Toby lowers the baby into her arms and sits upon the bed beside her. Spencer laughs a little and says, "She kind of looks like you."
"How can you possibly tell that already?" Toby jokes. "She's been out of the womb for like twenty minutes."
"I don't know. I just see it," She replies as the baby yawns. "She's so beautiful."
"Yes," Toby agrees. "Takes after her mother, that way."
Spencer grins and kisses him languidly. They gaze upon their perfect little miracle for a while longer before Spencer suggests, "I want to name her Grace."
"Grace," Toby repeats, testing the name on his tongue. "Yeah, I can get on board with that. That's a great name."
"Isn't it?" Spencer agrees. "She looks like a Grace."
"She does," Toby nods. "It's perfect. Grace Cavanaugh. Grace…"
He trails off, searching for a middle name, but Spencer adds, "Marion."
The overwhelming love, pride and raw emotion in Toby's eyes nearly bring Spencer to tears. She's certainly shocked him into silence, so she says, "Grace Marion. It flows nicely, don't you think?"
"Grace Marion," Toby tests, his voice breaking over his mother's name. "I love it."
"I do, too."
"And I love you," He tells her. "I love you so very much."
"I love you, too, Toby," Spencer says. "With all of my heart."
Toby trails a finger down little Grace's cheek and announces, "Grace Marion Cavanaugh."
Spencer grins. "Welcome to the world."