1. Labor Pains

Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick.

I rubbed my protruding stomach and closely watched Glenn as he held his phone to his ear and waited for Rick to answer his call.

Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick.

No one would ever accuse me, Michonne Danvers, of being a whimsical, pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinker. Logic, reason, evidence and facts drove my decision-making and dictated how I presented myself in both personal and professional settings. I lived by my personal mantra of Analyze, Strategize, Attack!.

But under the influence of pregnancy hormones, I threw my principles out the window and tried my hardest to mentally will Rick Grimes to answer his phone.

Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick. Answer the phone, Rick.

I studied Glenn for a sign that Rick's phone was no longer ringing. Within seconds, I got one. It was almost imperceptible, but once I saw the crease between Glenn's eyebrows, I knew he got Rick's voicemail.

"Voicemail," Glenn said with a slight shake of his head before ending the call.

We must have called Rick at least 20 times in the last hour and left half as many messages. I wouldn't allow myself to linger on this particular thought, but something had to be catastrophically wrong to not have heard from him by now.

Rick and I had known each other since we were six years old, and I couldn't recall a time when he wasn't present when something momentous happened. With today shaping up to be the most important day of his life—the most important day of both of our lives, his absence was alarming and distressing.

I felt another contraction building, and my concern for Rick turned to agitation. I didn't sign up to have this baby alone. One of the terms of this arrangement specified that the Grimes' were to be present through my labor. Our agreement was being violated.

As the contraction gained momentum, I kept my breathing steady, continued to rub my stomach, and focused on how tremendously pleased I was that my water broke on Rick and Lori's brand new vintage, Victorian-style couch.

"Who even gets a $4,000 couch when they're about to have a baby?!" I wondered out loud.

In Rick's defense, the couch was all Lori's doing. He was completely surprised by the delivery, but it made Lori happy so he didn't complain.

"It's not even a comfortable couch, and it's hideous. It clashes with everything!" I complained.

Glenn, who had been by my side since my water broke, was too busy pacing to comment. My birth partner by default witnessed my water break immediately after he delivered my thin crust, white sauce, pineapple, jalapeño, and spicy sausage pizza. To his credit, the look of bewilderment had finally cleared from his face and he was no longer thrown off by the random things that came out of my mouth.

Glenn owned Mama Mia Pizza-Rhee-a!, and when I called in a request for an off-the-menu pizza, he promised that he'd make it and deliver it personally in less than half an hour—music to a pregnant lady's ears! Although I suspected Glenn would never look at me in the same way after witnessing my water breaking, I was beyond grateful that he was still here.

I also hoped this wouldn't affect my pizza privileges in the future.

"Try calling again?" I asked him before my contraction took center stage.

"Of course, Michonne," Glenn answered, nodding emphatically and redialing Rick's number.

I truly prided myself on always having my shit together. Cool, calm and collected was my thing. But my shit was dangerously close to being lost.

"Put it on speaker," I groaned as the contraction hit.

The sound of Rick's ringing phone filled the room until we heard his voice.

"Hey, this is Rick. Leave a message."

"Rick, this is Gl—"

"Richard Arthur Grimes," I interrupted. "... hee hee hoo... get your ass... hee hee hoo... to the hospital... hee hee hoo... NOW!"

"What she said," Glenn said. "Uh, this is Glenn... Rhee... from Mama Mia's Pizza-Rhee-a!," he added before ending the call.

"...hee hee hoo... " I continued to breath out, trying not to let the pain or the panic break me.

Glenn was giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze when Daryl rushed into my hospital room with a panic-stricken look on his normally stoic face.

He was not helping my cause.

"What?!" Glenn and I all but shouted.

"It's Lori," Daryl said slowly. "She's missin'."

"What do you mean she's missing?" Glenn asked.

"She's just gone. Clothes are gone. Car is gone. Not answerin' her phone," he shrugged. "Rick's out lookin' for her."

"...hee hee hoo... This can not… hee hee hoo… be… hee hee hoo… happening," I said to no one in particular.

Daryl grunted in agreement while he chewed on his thumbnail.

Once my contraction came to a merciful end after wreaking the worst kind of havoc on my body, I looked at Daryl and pointed to my purse. "Phone," I instructed.

He handed it to me and I immediately scrolled through my contacts until I found Lori. I didn't expect to get a hold of her, but I felt obligated to try.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Daryl asked.

"She needs to be here," I told him. "She probably won't answer if Glenn calls because she won't recognize his number. She's definitely not answering if you call because she will recognize your number. I have the best chance of reaching her."

"A pretty slim chance," Daryl smirked.

"It's better than a definitely not," I retorted, calling Rick's wife.

Surprisingly, she answered after the first ring.

"Lori, are you there?" I asked calmly, as if her child was not actively trying to escape from my body; as if she wasn't the reason why Rick was probably running around town out of his mind.

My question was met with silence.

"Lori, I need you to come to the hospital. Your baby—your son, he's coming."

Her silence persisted until it was cut by her sniffle.

"Lori!" I snapped, losing patience. I didn't know how much time I had before the next contraction, and I wasn't planning on spending all of it coddling Lori.

"I'm sorry, Michonne. I... I can't," she whimpered.

"You can't what?!" I asked sharply, protectively holding my stomach.

When silence was once again her response, I sighed in exasperation. Lori Grimes had never been my favorite person. I didn't particularly care for her when we met in high school, and that sentiment had not shifted much twenty years later. I'd witnessed too many tantrums, over-the-top outbursts, and attention-seeking spectacles to be anything more than cordial with her. And she was only getting that because of how dearly I valued my friendship with Rick. She wasn't my cup of tea, but she sure was Rick's. I respected that.

When he announced his and Lori's plans to start a family a few years ago, I was excited for the couple. I looked forward to meeting the miniature blue-eyed, brown-haired people that they created, but after a year or so of trying to conceive, Rick confided in me about their fertility issues.

I shared in their heartache over Lori's inability to carry a child. I cried with Rick, who so desperately wanted to be a father, and empathized with Lori when their sadness weighed them down. They eventually started exploring other options that would allow them to become parents, and when they both asked me to consider being their surrogate, I wholeheartedly agreed to do so. Genetically, the baby would be theirs; I would just serve as the oven the bun cooked in.

Because of my legal experience, I knew that it was an absolute necessity to have an agreement in place before we moved forward. Lori was far from thrilled when I drafted a surrogacy agreement. She felt that I was turning something heartfelt into an impersonal business transaction. I understood why she felt that way, but I also knew that if there wasn't a definitive, clear-cut plan established, the most heartfelt intentions could implode and leave all involved parties feeling victimized.

I wasn't requesting anything extravagant or out of the norm, I just needed certain details ironed out. Rick and Lori ultimately signed the agreement, but not without adding a stipulation of their own: I was to move into their home for the duration of my pregnancy once I hit the six-month mark.

After the pregnancy was confirmed, I thought there was a possibility of Lori and I moving from friendly enough to friends. That hope perished once the first trimester ended and she started passively aggressively complaining about my work schedule—which she deemed was too demanding, my diet—which she deemed was too spicy, and my shoes—which she deemed were too unsafe.

Rick, ever the peacemaker, asked me to look at things from her perspective. I wouldn't budge from my perspective, though. My job, my food, and my heels were off limits. Those things became points of contention, making the last few months of the pregnancy tense between me and Lori.

But as I sat on the phone with her with her son some hours away from arriving, I couldn't deny that I genuinely wanted Lori to be here. As annoying as she was—and she was hands down the most annoying person I'd ever met, I only imagined this moment with her here. This moment wasn't mine to experience alone, nor was it mine to experience just with Rick. This was our moment.

I became teary-eyed and silently cursed my hormones.

"Just come to the hospital," I said softly. "Whatever you're going through, it's ok. We'll deal with it. Together. Please just come. We need you here."

I waited for her response, hoping that what I'd just said meant something to her.

"Lori?" I asked when she didn't say anything. "Lori?" I said again when she still didn't reply.

I pulled my phone from my ear and looked at the screen. She'd already ended the call.

As the panic that I had been trying so desperately to suppress finally surfaced, I hurled the phone across the room and screamed. I had officially lost my shit, and I would never forgive Lori Grimes for making me lose it.

I looked up to see matching expressions of shock on Glenn and Daryl's faces.

"No one finds out about that," I warned them both.

Losing my cool in general was a rarity now-a-days, but to lose it in the fashion that I had was humiliating.

Fucking Lori Grimes.

"Glenn, keep trying to reach Rick," I ordered, looking straight ahead at the wall in front of me. "Daryl, bring me some ice."

Since the breathing exercises seemed to work for the contractions, I started doing them to help calm my shot nerves. Glenn settle into the chair near the bed to start calling Rick again, but I felt Daryl's stare.

"I'm good, D," I said, still looking at the wall.

When he didn't move, I turned my head to look at the man that Rick and I had also known since he was six years old. He stared at me for a beat before saying with a straight face, "Bitches be crazy, huh?"

Daryl had a knack for saying the most inappropriate things at the most inappropriate times, but in this instance I couldn't have appreciated his inappropriateness more. Those four words made me want to throw my head back and laugh and also break down and cry.

Damn hormones.

I settled on giving him an exaggerated eye roll.

When I glanced at Glenn, I noticed that the bewildered look had returned to his face as he listened to our exchange. I really, really hoped this wouldn't affect my pizza privileges.

"Go get my ice, Daryl," I ordered.

"Yep," he replied, still not moving.

There was an unspoken question that he was asking, and he wasn't going anywhere until I answered it.

"I'm good," I promised, looking into his eyes.

His eyes searched mine. Satisfied with what he saw, he left the room in search of ice. I found a spot on the wall to stare at and resumed my breathing exercises.

Lori was running, Rick was blindly chasing after her, and this baby was on its way.

It was going to be a long night.

I was exhausted. It had to be after 3AM, but my mind refused to shut down and let me sleep. There wasn't a lot I could do this early in the morning—not that I was at all interested in doing anything requiring me to leave my hospital bed, so I did what helped ground me hours ago. I stared at a spot on the wall.

Dr. Cloyd, my OB/GYN, said that I'd had a fast and easy labor and delivery. Likely story from someone who showed up 15 minutes before the baby came out. Fast is not how I would describe the experience of pushing a 7-pound, 4-ounce person from my body, and easy is not how I would describe going through childbirth without Rick and Lori being there.

But the little guy was worth it. Since neither of his parents was there to do it, I was the first person to properly welcome him to the world. My arms were the first to cradle him, my lips were the first to kiss him, my voice was the first to tell him that he was loved.

He was a little nugget of joy in the midst of a very tumultuous situation, and he left an immediate imprint on my heart.

I contemplated whether the past 24 hours had been the best worst day, the worst best day, or just a crazy, crazy day. Rick and Daryl were normally my sounding boards for this type of deliberation, but since Rick was still who-knows-where and Daryl was on my Lori List, I'd have to ponder on my own.

I sighed and let my mind wander to simpler things... like the thin crust, white sauce, pineapple, jalapeño, and spicy sausage pizza that I never got to taste.

"Hey," a familiar voice whispered, startling me from my thoughts.

Rick.

He was sitting in the chair near the window and was illuminated by a soft light peeking through the blinds. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him holding his son. I'd never been so happy to see Rick while also being so furious with him.

"Hey," I croaked unpleasantly.

He looked up at me with a half-smile before looking back down at Carl in absolute adoration, and that's all it took for my irritation to melt away.

My curiosity begged me to ask Rick question after question about what happened and what was going on, but it wasn't the time. Instead, my attention was drawn to a congratulatory balloon, a Big Kat candy bouquet, and a 2-liter bottle of Dr Pepper. I immediately grabbed the Dr Pepper.

Hello, caffeine!

"In case you didn't know," I whispered after gulping down almost half of the soda, "the little nugget in your arms is Carl Glendrick Grimes born at 12:07AM."

The warmth from the smile on Rick's face wrapped around me and lulled me to a place of comfort I'd been seeking since my water broke. I curled up to my 2-liter bottle and continued to watch father and son as my eyelids grew heavy. This was infinitely better than staring at the wall.

"Michonne," I heard Rick whisper.

His voice almost pulled me from my slumbering state, but I felt myself weightlessly drifting back to it.

"Michonne," he whispered again.

I slowly opened my eyes to find Rick standing by the side of the bed.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hey," he smiled, taking the Dr Pepper from me and placing it on the rolling tray next to the bed. "Move over," he whispered.

"Where's Carl?" I asked after yawning and stretching.

Rick nodded his head towards the bassinet. "Sleepin'."

"He looks just like you, Rick," I said in amazement.

We looked at each other and grinned. Rick Grimes, once a perpetually dirty little boy who liked to chase me around and throw frogs and worms at me, was a daddy now.

"Michonne, move over," he said in a slightly louder but still hushed voice.

The smile fell from my face. I was ecstatic that he was here, but Rick could be overbearingly bossy at times. Only he would have the nerve to wake me up to make me share my hospital bed after I had given birth.

I turned onto my side to give him space, but not before frowning at him and sighing.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he muttered as he climbed in and rested on his side to face me. Once he saw the look on my face, he squinted at me.

"Really, Michonne? It's not even your bed."

"Shoes," I ordered.

With a slight eye roll and a smile, he kicked his shoes off.

"You're so bossy," he smirked.

Before I could respond, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

It was my turn to roll my eyes. There really was no need for thanks. Since Rick was married, I wasn't comfortable calling him my best friend—if anyone was his best friend, it was his wife, but since we had thirty years of history together that couldn't be ignored, I did claim him as my officially unofficial best friend. And what was surrogacy between officially unofficial best friends?

"Don't do that," Rick admonished. "What we asked of you? It was a lot. I doubt most people would do it, but you did. So thank you."

There were so many emotions battling in those blue eyes of his. I could see his gratitude for me, his love and joy for Carl, and his heartbreak over Lori. As nerve-wracking as my day had been, I knew it didn't compare to what Rick had gone through. He had simultaneously gained a son and lost a wife.

Best worst day. Worst best day. Crazy, crazy day. We'd have to figure that one out at some point.

"My phone is destroyed," I pouted.

He smiled and playfully kicked my feet. "I heard. I'll get you a new phone."

"A fancy new phone, Rick. All the bells and whistles," I clarified.

Rick had a cheap streak, and I wasn't about to have my Samsung replaced with some basic flip phone from the early 2000s.

"The fanciest," he agreed, closing his eyes.

"And my vagina?" I asked, causing his eyes to pop open. "I'm pretty sure it's destroyed too."

He scoffed when he realized I was serious.

"I've known you for how long, Michonne? We both know that thang already had quite a few miles on it."

"Your point?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

"My point is that I seriously doubt my 7-pound son caused any damage to what was probably already dinged up and dented."

"Seven pounds and four ounces," I said, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled before leaning over and kissing my forehead. "Ahhhh, my apologies… I didn't account for those four ounces. I could see how that would make a difference," he said entirely too sarcastically. "Whatever I can do to get your vagina back in workin' order, I'll do it."

Rick had jokes, but I was truly concerned about the condition of my girl. Daryl and Glenn had both stayed with me through the birth, and while Glenn refused to do anything but hold my hand, Daryl was fine with getting up close and personal. I grimaced at the memory of him laughing and saying in disbelief, "Damn, 'Chonne! I've never seen a hole that big!"

I rolled my eyes before returning my focus to Rick, who looked as if he was quickly giving in to sleep. I hated to bring what was sure to be a touchy topic up, but the topic of his wife couldn't be avoided completely.

"Lori?" I questioned.

A shade of crimson quickly colored his face. When he looked at me, his eyes were brimming with remorse, shame, and tears.

"I never would have asked... It wasn't supposed to be... If I'd known that she..." he trailed off, unable to find the right words to express himself.

"Stop," I said gently but firmly. "I don't regret it, Rick. I'm glad I could do this for you, for Carl. I don't regret it."

He let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that truth reflecting in my eyes.

"She's gone then?" I asked.

He stared at me for a long moment before quietly saying, "She left a letter."

I wondered if she had written more than "I can't" in the letter.

"Michonne, how do I do this alone?" he asked.

The despair in his voice and the frantic look in his eyes gutted me, but Rick was wrong.

"You're not alone," I quickly reassured him, cupping his face and wiping away tears. "You know you have Daryl and you have me, and it'll be impossible to keep Glenn away."

I saw him getting lost in his thoughts and doubted he'd even heard what I'd said.

"You have all of us," I reiterated, needing him to understand that we would not let him fall. "I'm sorry she's gone, Rick. I really am. But we got this."

When new tears began to fall from his eyes, I pulled him close and held him tight as he quietly sobbed in my arms.

"We got this, Rick. I got you. Always."