It had been a long, tiring night. Mostly for you, of course. But by the end of it, there they were: you and Spencer’s infant child. Finally, after nine months of impatience, the baby was in your arms.

And now, it was morning. You’re in pain from the ordeal, groggy and exhausted but hooked up to some delightful painkillers. All the while, after the tests had been completed and the birth certificate was signed, Spencer finally got the chance to hold them.

He was downright petrified as he cradled the baby against his chest.

All his life, Spencer didn’t have an example of a good father. His father was practically deadbeat, dismissing him and his mother early on. What did it mean to be a good dad? Could he meet those requirements? The infant in his arms was so small, so itty bitty and tiny. They were innocent to the world.

A single tear flows down Spencer’s cheek as he speaks up, voice soft. “Am— am I gonna do a good job?” he asks you. The baby babbles and squirms a bit; he adjusts his hold.

“I- I don’t know how to be a dad,” he admits, looking at his child with admiration and fear.