I've been sitting on this one for a long, long, long time. Enjoy.

"This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood - finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without." – Jodi Picoult, Perfect Match

I lean back and let my eyes fall shut in exhaustion, the long hours of discomfort and pain finally reaching that threshold where I couldn't take it anymore. I let out a few heavy breaths, still trying to recover from the exertion. Sleeping for a week straight is starting to sound really good about now…politics, work, and appearances be damned.

"Congratulations, Ms. Prentiss. It's a beautiful baby girl."

My eyes open and I blink quickly, trying to process the doctor's words. Baby girl? I have a baby girl? Moments pass among a flurry of activity, but I couldn't care less about the chatter among the staff, or the nurses buzzing around the room. I have only one thing running through my mind – and that's my daughter. Though my mind may be focused entirely on the small bundle across the room being attended to by some nurses, I still find myself unable to keep my eyes open. I want nothing more than to make sure she's healthy, but my eyes won't listen to my mind. They fall shut as my exhaustion sneaks up on me once more.

My breathing finally slows back down to normal, but I find my mind screaming at me that it's too quiet in the room. Why isn't she crying? Aren't babies supposed to cry?

My frantic questions are rendered moot when, in a moment surely worthy of TV and film, I hear a loud wail pierce the room's relative quiet. I let out a sigh of relief and feel the smallest hint of a smile form. She's okay.

"Here she is, Ms. Prentiss," I hear a nurse say softly, and suddenly my eyes are opening and my arms are reaching out for her. Reaching out for my baby girl. Reaching out for my daughter. The nurse places her in my arms and I'm instantly mesmerized. Time seems to slow down, if not stop completely, as I hold her close. Everything else fades into the background, and all that I'm aware of is her.

She begins to squirm a little, no doubt uncomfortable in this strange new world, and I adjust the blanket surrounding her, wrapping it a little more tightly around her tiny frame. She flails an arm up and I gently place my finger in her palm, feeling a rush of emotion when she grasps it tightly. She whimpers quietly and I find a smile spreading. Suddenly all those hours of pain, and all those months of discomfort seem more than worth it.

As a sense of joy radiates through my tired mind and body, it feels as though she's filled a hole in my heart that I didn't know I had. Dad had warned me that having a child would change me, but it hadn't quite sunk in for me until this very moment. I knew my life would be different from the moment she was born, but I still wasn't prepared for the sense of responsibility and protectiveness that washed over me the instant she was placed in my arms. In that moment, my whole world became about her.

Slowly her cries quiet as she apparently finds comfort in my arms. I gently brush a finger on her cheek, my eyes never leaving her as I carefully scan her features. I find myself marveling at how tiny they are. Had I really been this small once? I begin to wonder if she looks anything like I did as a newborn. Dark hair, long lashes, pale skin – yeah, I guess there's a family resemblance.

She lets out a soft mewling sound and I find myself breathless as her eyes open, revealing the darkest brown eyes I've ever seen. They have the look of an old soul, as though she's lived decades longer than the precious few minutes since she was born.

I find myself overwhelmed by a sense of love for her as our gazes lock. I realize at that moment that there isn't anything that I wouldn't do for her, and I desperately want- no, I need to make her understand that. She needs to know how much I love her, and that she doesn't have to worry about ever being alone, because I'm fighting in her corner.

Her eyes flutter open and shut every so often, no doubt an indication of her curiosity for the world mixing with what has to have been a very stressful and tiring day for her so far. I continue my inspection of her, my eyes combing over every inch of her, making sure there isn't anything the doctors and nurses might have missed. I find, thankfully, that everything's where it's supposed to be and I breathe a sigh of relief. She's perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, two beautiful brown eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a nose I'm fairly certain she inherited from me, two little ears, and a seemingly perpetual frown.

All too soon they whisk her away to run some tests, and I find myself experiencing a strange emptiness. The room feels so much larger, and so much emptier without her in it. Not to mention I feel a near overwhelming anxiety that she's not within my sight. I recall the story my father had told me many months ago about the near identical reaction my own mother had when I was born, and find myself smiling fondly.

I allow my mind to wander freely, letting it jump from thoughts of Harrison's notable absence, to my father waiting outside, to what my mother would say if she were here, to what I should name my daughter. But then a key realization washes over me.

I'm a mother.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I can't pinpoint the exact moment I began to feel like a mother. Maybe it was when I found out about her existence, or maybe it was when I told my father, or maybe it was when they put her in my arms. But whenever it was, it was a feeling I knew wouldn't ever disappear. I became a mother somewhere along the line, and I would be one until the day I die.

It's a bit strange to think of how I got here. I'd gone from a young woman desperately in love with a man, to a lost young woman with a less than ideal marriage and unsure of where I was headed. When things with Harrison had begun to fizzle out, I'd thrown myself into my work entirely, refusing to believe my marriage was over. Things had gone up and down with him after, and then I'd gotten pregnant and everything changed. Yes, a career in politics was still in the cards for me – having a child wouldn't change my aspirations – but there was a little more room for other things now. I was willing to give things with Harrison a try again. If for no other reason than for our daughter. She deserves to have two parents. She deserves to have a father.

Things overall had shifted and changed, yes, but the biggest change was opening myself up again. I'd closed myself off in an effort to protect my heart from the constant battering it received from Harrison's hot and cold routine, but the moment I found out I was pregnant I began to open up again. I was determined to give my daughter the best the world had to offer, and to be the mother that she deserved.

They bring her back in after a little while, all wrapped up in a soft blanket with a soft pink cap on her head. They put her in my arms and then we're alone. I find a mixture of paralyzing fear and amazement coursing through my body as I gently hold her close. She's sleeping soundly, her little face scrunching every so often as she squirms slightly, as though she hasn't quite found the comfortable position to allow herself to drift off into dreamland.

It's a bit funny – I'd heard from so many people that they had so much to say to their kids when they were born. They had these long-winded speeches about how they were always going to love them, and protect them, and watch over them, and how perfect they were. My father told me my own mother had said these kinds of things to me when I was born. And yet…I can't say a thing. No words seem adequate to express what I want to say, and no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to force them to leave my lips. Then again, maybe words aren't needed.

I realize then that even if I had anything to say…she doesn't have a name. I'd thought for hours on end during my pregnancy on what to name her – although since I hadn't known my baby was a girl, I'd thought of both male and female names. Harrison had wanted to follow his family tradition and name the baby after his paternal grandfather or grandmother. But I was a strong woman, and wouldn't have my own family forgotten. I'd never liked his family anyway.

Besides, she deserved to have her own name, and not have to live under anyone's expectations and standards. I look down at her, and find that all the names I'd picked just do not fit her. She's not a Catherine, or an Isabella. Charlotte doesn't seem to fit her, and neither does Nancy. Maybe Genevieve…but I don't think she looks like a Genevieve. Perhaps I'd pass along Mom's middle name to another generation.

Then it comes to me. Seemingly out of nowhere, her name comes to me. And it is her name, because it suits her so perfectly. It's a name with history, but not one that will weigh her down because of family connections. And since I've decided she'll share her middle name with her grandmother and mother, she has that link to her family without dooming her to a life of unreachable standards.

I feel a tear trickle down my cheek as I realize my baby girl has a name. She has an identity. She's somebody. I take a shuddering breath and smile as I look down at her, finding her gaze locked on me. Our eyes meet and I find the words have finally come.

"Hello, Emily," I whisper.

So...how did you like this one? Was Elizabeth believable as a first-time mum? Was it a sweet look into the first 'conversation' of Emily's life? Do let me know!

I thought long and hard about how I wanted to wrap this story up, and in my mind ending it with the first conversation of Emily's life just seemed like a natural choice. It's been a long and wonderful run these past few years, and I'm ever so grateful for all your kind words and support. To every reader and reviewer: thank you. I also owe some serious thanks to both Shadpup and Annber03 - who both have been invaluable with suggestions and feedback, and who without these Conversations would have ended long ago.

Did you have a favourite conversation? One that really hit you? One that just didn't seem to fit? Feel free to drop me a PM with your answers...I'm curious!

I'm working on a couple different ideas at the moment, so something should be going up relatively soon...though I'll definitely be taking a bit of a break!

And finally - don't forget to take a look through the list of nominated fics for the Profilers Choice Awards and vote for your favourites. There are some really talented writers and wonderful stories on there - so be sure to give them a read!

"It is all right to hold a conversation but you should let go of it now and then." – Richard Armour