Abby carries the kid over to Neela and Matt, who bag him and try to pink him up. This of course wigs Weaver out, and she tensely watches over their shoulders, pale. "He's too quiet," she chokes. "Give him a minute," Abby promises quietly, competent and calm and reassuring. I like her this way. Sure enough, the kid is fine. Sandy looks delighted. "He's beautiful!" Abby beams. "Is he really all right?" Weaver pales. Abby nods and promises that all the boy needs is some antibiotics for some tiny little thing -- chorio, I think -- but that he's otherwise a rockin' infant. "Love you!" Sandy calls out to Weaver, weepy herself. Abby smirks, "I had no idea!" Weaver lets out a relieved laugh as she admits that no one had any idea. Possibly including the writers. The baby has what looks like a blueberry twizzler sticking out of his belly button. Neela invites Weaver to cut the cord, and a thrilled Weaver takes the snippers and...ohhh, I don't need to see this. When I have a baby, I'm totally going to be one of those mothers that's like, "Don't even SHOW that to me until you've cleaned it up and gotten rid of all the weird bits." Weaver sniffles and mouths, "Hello, Henry!" as we fade to black.
"Day Twenty-One, 5:45 AM." Neela hurries into the NICU with two cups of coffee. What happened to being scared of outside bacteria? Abby has fallen asleep with her head on a table, so Neela nudges her awake and hands her a drink. Abby in turn shares that Jacob got worse that night, and that she had to call the parents back in to tell them that he's heading to the OR again. "Any word from Inga's parents?" Neela frowns. Abby shakes her head.
Elizabeth appears with x-rays that show that Jake's bowels are perfed. She wants him in the OR immediately so that they can save whatever parts remain viable, so they pack him up into a rolling incubator thing and zoom him out toward the OR. Just then, of course, Jake's parents arrive, with a little girl in tow. Elizabeth stiffly introduces herself and explains the procedure, but Abby has more interest in the girl. "Would you like to see your little brother?" she asks, kindly. "Abby," Elizabeth warns. Seriously -- what about "immediately" did she not understand? But Abby knows the value of a good promo scene, so she opens up the incubator and encourages the little girl to squeeze Jake's hand. "I'm your big sister, Miranda," the little girl cutes. Everyone swaps very grave and tragic looks that would fit nicely under the deep intonations of the Promo God, and then they pack Jake up and whisk him away again. I'm briefly distracted by the squabble that ensued when my Bitch Pants attempted to ease themselves onto my body over my pajama pants, which didn't appreciate the coup and forced me to write another paragraph that's generous to Abby.