Nine.

They decide on Roberto, which is not Bobby's name but is awfully close, and are calling the baby Rob for short. It took almost two weeks for Doctor Prasad to clear Betty to return home, but they're there now, finding their new patterns as a family and – in another couple of weeks – preparing for their first Christmas with the baby. Everyone who was here before will fly back, and more people besides: Tyler will bring Amanda, Justin's inviting his new boyfriend, and DJ, Alexis and Gareth will be here too, though in Gareth's case that will be at least partly to collect on that case of Glenfiddich Betty owes him. It's going to be a beautiful Christmas, almost exactly like the holiday of her dreams – but not quite.

Betty thinks with a pang of the Estella that will never be, and puts her free hand over her belly. The raised scar of her Caesarian is warm against her palm. When Daniel first told her about the hysterectomy, she wept for the rest of the day; she knows she hasn't cried her last about it. But shock is settling – slowly – into acceptance.

Daniel, who is sitting next to her on their bed at home, notices the gesture and understands what it means without being told. "Did I do the right thing?" he asks quietly, and she hears the echo of her own loss.

"You did the right thing." She turns her face to him. "The only thing you could do."

"Still," he says, and his voice is uneven.

Bringing her hand to the side of his face, Betty says, "That was probably the moment I most needed you to be strong for me. And you were. You saved my life, Daniel. Never forget that."

"I'm just sorry that was the price."

"Me too." Her voice is the one breaking now. Daniel leans his forehead against hers, and for a few moments, they're silent together, sharing the pain they both feel. Betty already knows that she'll never get over losing the chance to carry more children, and Daniel won't get over it either. This is a weight they will always have to bear. But it helps knowing they carry it together.

"We'll get through this," Daniel murmurs, reminding them both.

Betty covers one of his hands with her own. "We can still have a big family. There are ways. For instance, we could get a surrogate." Then there's a pause as each of them thinks of the craziness surrounding Wilhelmina, Christina and baby William. She adds, more brightly, "Or, we could adopt."

"Adoption. I could do that. Maybe in a few years." His voice is gentle. "Whatever we need to do to create the family we want – we'll do it."

"And so what if it's not that usual way?" It costs her something to summon up that much bravado, but she means it, and her smile is real. "Like anything about us was ever conventional."

"True." Daniel settles his head onto her shoulder. "But right now, I like our family the way it is."

Rob finished nursing a few minutes ago; for now he's dozing between wakefulness and sleep in her lap. The nanny and her home health aide will arrive in a couple hours, and Betty's grateful for the help, but she likes these early morning feedings, when it's just her and Daniel and their baby. She likes it even when the baby cries and won't eat, or when her boobs leak milk onto the mattress, or when Daniel wakes up grumpy at 3 a.m. That's life.

Something about that jogs her memory. "Daniel, I think – when I was out, and I nearly died – I think I had one of those out of body experiences."

"Really?" He lifts his head to meet her eyes, and apparently he can see that she's serious. "Whoa. Were you, like, floating above your hospital bed? Could you see us around you?"

"It wasn't like that," Betty says, but she can't think what it was like. The experience is there, but veiled, so that she can no longer call it to mind precisely. "I think there was a lot of bright light, and these feelings of – just the most intense love." Then she frowns. "Also maybe there was something about the San Diego chicken." When Daniel stares at her, she sighs. "Okay, probably that part was the drugs. But I know something happened. Something beautiful."

"Well, I'm glad you didn't 'go into the light' or whatever." Daniel kisses her cheek, and she can feel his morning stubble against her skin. "I prefer having you here with me and Roberto."

Rob is on the verge of dozing off, so Betty hands him over to Daniel, who folds him against his shoulder and pats his back. After Rob emits a burp so loud it would stun Homer Simpson, they get him back to his crib; luckily, he's a good sleeper so far. The little stuffed giraffe is nestled nearby.

This is normally when they collapse back into bed to get as much rest as they can before Rob awakes again and the day begins, but this time, after they lie down, Betty snuggles closer to Daniel and strokes one hand along his bare chest. "Are you really tired?" she asks. "Or could you – stay awake a while longer?"

Daniel raises one eyebrow. "You know we're not supposed to yet."

"I know. But there's other stuff we could do."

He gives her that lopsided grin she loves so much. "Then I think I could stay awake a while longer."

As they kiss, and his arms slip around her, Betty thinks she remembers something else from that mysterious time between life and death – something about a choice between here and heaven. But that can't be right, because it seems to her that there's no difference between the two, no difference at all.