The Night Before Christmas
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. Sad, isn't it? Also don't own 'Night Before Christmas', great as it is.
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse—"Ow!"
Monica Geller-Bing sat up abruptly in bed.
"What is it, sweetie?" her husband Chandler asked, blearily opening his eyes.
Monica placed a hand on her rather large belly. "I think it's time."
Chandler gave a glance to the clock. "It's eleven fifty-eight. It's not Christmas yet, Mon."
"I don't mean Christmas," Monica replied. "I mean time. Baby time."
Her husband gave her a look. "You're kidding. Are you sure it's not just Braxton-Hicks?"
"I'm pretty darn sure," she said, glaring at him. "It felt like the last five times, Chandler. I, of all people, should know by now what labour feels like."
"Well… have your waters gone yet?" Chandler queried, looking at the clock again, wondering if it would be possible to snatch an hour's sleep before the baby came.
"No, but you know the plug went yesterday, don't you?" Monica climbed out of bed, holding her stomach gingerly. "Are you gonna help me here?"
"You seem okay." That comment earned him a glare. "Sorry, sorry. Where's your bag?" he asked, tumbling out of bed.
"By the front door. Can you phone Rachel or should I do it? Never mind, I'll do it. You wake the older ones. Leave the babies, they need their sleep." Monica was out of the room by this time, clad in a robe and slippers. Five minutes later, she was back. "Rachel says she can't come – Emma's up sick. Rach doesn't want to leave her."
"For goodness sake, Emma's nearly fourteen. Can't she cope with a bit of sickness?" Chandler muttered.
"Ross says he'll come, though," Monica added. "He'll be here in ten minute—" She broke off. "Oh. Oh. Contraction." Her face relaxed after a moment. "Textbook so far, then. It's been about ten minutes, hasn't it?"
Chandler looked at the clock. "Yup. Eight minutes into Christmas day." He paused. "Damnit, this is going to be a Christmas baby, isn't it, Mon?"
"I hope so," Monica agreed. "I don't want to spend the whole of Christmas day in labour. Have you woken the kids?"
"Not yet – I was getting dressed. You get dressed, and I'll do it, baby." He left the room, and headed into his oldest daughter's room. "Amber, honey?"
"What, dad?" Amber mumbled, waking easily. She was thirteen, and the image of her mother. "Christmas yet?"
"Yes, honey," her father replied. "But that's not why I'm waking you, Amber. Mom's gone into labour. Uncle Ross is coming over, I just wanted to warn you, okay?"
"Oh, goody!" Amber squealed. "That's the best present ever, dad! Tell mom good luck – oh, and merry Christmas!"
"Shh, you noisy child! The others are asleep, remember?" her father scolded her gently. "Stay in bed, honey. Merry Christmas!" And with that he departed, to do the same to his first son, Daniel, and second daughter, Laura, aged ten and eight respectively. He left the littler ones, five-year-old Gavin, and three-year-old Gabriel, to sleep.
When he got back to the room, Monica was in the midst of another contraction. Her teeth were gritted, and eyes shut. After about five seconds, she relaxed, and stood up. She was already dressed, wearing a coat, hat, snow boots, and gloves over her outfit.
"Hey, sweetie," she greeted her husband. "They're getting stronger. I think this might be a quick one."
"Oh, good. I don't want you to have to have the thirty-nine hour hell again," he replied, referring to her labour with Laura.
"Me either," she laughed. "Right, one of us should be downstairs to meet Ross, so he doesn't have to ring the bell – that could wake the kids."
"Amber, Dan, and Laura are awake already."
"Hopefully they'll be back off to sleep by now," Monica retorted. "They should be, anyhow. That crowd can sleep quite easily."
"They all tell you good luck and merry Christmas," Chandler informed his wife, as they made their way – slowly – downstairs. "Amber thinks it's the best present ever, Daniel tells you not to stay in hospital too long, and Laura tells you to have a girl or else."
Monica gritted her teeth as another contraction hit her. When it was over, she returned to the subject. "I am hoping for a girl, I must say. We've got three boys and two girls. It's not right." She paused, thinking over what she'd just said. "And after this one, you're having a vasectomy, Mr Bing."
"I thought you liked lots of children," Chandler protested. "That sounds painful."
"Well, birth control doesn't work too well," Monica pointed out.
"It works perfectly," Chandler corrected her. "You have to use it, though, sweetie."
"Oh. Oh. Oh, my God." Monica was having another contraction. As she clutched her stomach, she gave another gasp. "My water broke. Chandler, my water broke."
"Okay, we're going pretty quickly," observed Chandler. "Where's Ross?"
"He better come quickly or this baby's gonna be born under the Christmas tree," Monica said, sounding anguished. "Chandler, call 911 and stay with the kids. I need to get to hospital quickly! This baby'll be here in less than an hour or I don't know labour."
"Less than an hour?" Chandler repeated. "The hospital's twenty minutes away! Ross might be ten more minutes."
"Well… you can deliver this one," Monica suggested. "I mean, you've been there for five births, right? You know how to do this."
"No I don't!" Chandler said, quickly. "I'm not delivering our baby, Monica."
"You might not have a choice," Monica began, but broke off when another contraction hit her. "Ahhh."
"Breathe."
"What, you think I'll forget?" Monica quipped. She squealed as she saw lights through the window. "Thank God. Ross's here!"
Chandler grabbed the bag, and raced out of the door, pushing his wife in front of him. "Ross, where the hell were you?"
"I was eight and a half minutes!" Ross retorted. "The kids asleep?"
"All except Amber, Dan, and Laura," Chandler replied. "You know where we'll be, don't call us, we'll call as soon as anything happens, don't bother bringing the kids before that, try and reassure the littlies 'cause Gavin and Gabriel don't know we've gone—"
"Chandler!" Monica was in the car, and getting impatient. "We'd better get going!"
"Good luck, man," Ross said, smiling. "Merry Christmas!" He entered the house, and the Bings drove off.
"You okay, Mon?" Chandler asked, a few minutes into the journey. Monica was in the middle of a contraction, more painful than before.
"Fine," she murmured. "It's a great Christmas gift, isn't it?"
"A baby," Chandler whispered. "Yeah. It's a gift to our family."
"Isn't it amazing? We've been married fifteen years, and we have a teenage daughter," Monica continued. "We have three sons and two daughters. We've never really argued. We live near to all our friends. This baby will be so lucky."
Chandler nodded. "Everything's amazing. Ross and Rachel finally married when Emma was eight. Phoebe married Mike and, even though they've split up God knows how many times, they're still together and have three sons. Joey settled down with Janice of all people when she and Sid split up when Aaron was two."
"No one expected that, did they?" Monica said with a laugh. "And whatever happened to Pheebs' predictions that she and Joey would get together?"
"They were just backups, I think," Chandler mused. "Okay there?" he added, stroking her arm as she strained with another contraction.
"It's getting faster, Chandler," she said, urgently.
"Okay. Does it hurt too badly?" he asked, gently.
"No. I can cope with the pain – God knows, I never had an epidural," she replied.
"We'll be there in five more minutes," Chandler said, rubbing her shoulder with his free arm. "Thank God this thing's automatic," he added to himself, smiling.
"Good, 'cause that's about when this baby's gonna be born," Monica said. "I need to push."
"You're kidding. Too soon," Chandler mumbled, steering himself around a patch of ice.
"Tell that to the baby," Monica snapped, rubbing her belly. "Please, baby, stay in there for a little while longer."
"Yeah, you can be our favourite kid if you stay there until we get into the delivery room," added Chandler.
"Ahh!" Monica moaned.
"Contraction?"
"Uh huh." She continued breathing heavily for almost a minute longer. "They're longer, harder – I can feel the baby pushing, Chandler."
"Right, we're – there," he replied, turning the car into the hospital parking lot. He jumped out and helped Monica out. "Can you walk?"
"Uh huh. Just."
"You know, this is the quickest you've ever been," Chandler remarked.
"You think I don't know that?"
"Sorry. Okay, here we are, Mon."
The two hurried over to reception.
"Monica Bing." Monica gave another gasp.
"Labour, I assume?" a young nurse asked. As opposed to the forty-something Bings, she looked barely twenty-five.
"Yeah…" Monica whispered, too exhausted to make a sarcastic comment.
Two hours later, a sweat-drenched but joyful Monica was handed a bundle. "Merry Christmas, it's a girl!" she was told. Then the Bings were left alone.
"A baby girl…" Monica murmured softly, stroking the baby's downy hair with the tip of a finger. "She's perfect, Chandler."
"She sure is," he replied. "A perfect Christmas present for the kids, too," he added, smiling. "Why did we bother getting them anything else, Mon?"
"'Cause we didn't know that this little one would be visiting so soon," Monica countered. "She wasn't due for three more days. I never imagined she'd be born on Christmas day itself."
"I thought about it, when you told me the due date, but I didn't expect it to happen. Just think, it's not even four a.m., and you've created a life already – and it's a holiday!" Chandler quipped.
"Yup, that's me, a workaholic," Monica agreed. The baby yawned. "So I see we don't like that topic of conversation, then, Missy."
"Does she have a proper name yet?" Chandler queried.
"No… what were our ideas?"
"John – for a boy. Maisie for a girl," Chandler replied.
"Maisie?" Monica repeated, wrinkling her nose.
"You don't like it either? Good."
Monica considered. "How 'bout Noelle? It's Christmas-y."
"Do you really want our daughter to go through life as Noelle Bing?" Chandler asked, staring at the baby.
"What's the matter with it?" demanded Monica. Off Chandler's look, she continued, "Okay, maybe not. So we're back to Maisie?"
"Please – no," begged Chandler. "What were our backups for the other kids?"
"Amber was always Amber Rachel, 'cause we knew she was a girl from the word 'go', remember? Ah, Daniel was Daniel Ross for the same reason. Laura was Laura Phoebe by Amber's request," Monica mused. "Gabriel was Gabriel Muriel on Nora's request – after his dad's middle name and his grandpa Bing's middle name, poor little kiddie. Gavin was either going to be Gavin Joseph or Joseph Gavin—"
"No he wasn't!" Chandler interjected. "He was going to be Makayla, 'cause you were so sure he was a girl that you refused a sonogram. You called him 'your little daughter' even when you were in labour. When the midwife handed him over and said 'It's a boy', I thought you were going to faint!"
"I was sure," Monica replied. "I thought it was mother's instinct."
"How about calling this one after Gavin's intended name?" Chandler thought aloud. "Makayla Noelle Bing."
Monica looked at the baby. "Makayla Noelle Bing… Mackie? Kailey? Kayla? – I like that. Kayla Bing." She smiled at her very new daughter, and touched her nose gently. "Hey, Kayla."
Chandler smiled at his wife and daughter. "Merry Christmas, Mon."
"Merry Christmas, Chandler." Monica handed their daughter over to him. "Here you go, Kayla. Go to daddy."
"I'm a daddy again," Chandler said, softly, gazing at his newest daughter. "Merry Christmas, little Kayla."
Kayla opened her eyes and yawned. She opened her mouth again, and let out a little cry. Chandler handed her back to her mother. "I think our newest daughter wants feeding," he told her. "I'm going to go call Ross."
Monica was left alone with her daughter. "Hi, little Makayla. Happy birthday, honey." The baby's cries died down as she was fed.
Ten minutes later, Chandler returned. "Everyone's thrilled. Amber and Laura are glad to have another sister, Gavin says he can't wait to teach her to play football, and Daniel says that Makayla is a – and I quote – 'really great name'."
Monica laughed. "I'm glad they're happy, 'cause I am."
Three hours later, Monica sat in a recovery room, feeding the baby. She heard her eldest four, Ross and Rachel's Emma, Janice's Aaron, Phoebe and Mike's three sons (Mickey, Joel, and Cougar), and Joey and Janice's daughter, Josie, coming, shouting and screaming. Before they came in, though, there was a noise outside the door, and the old gang entered – Rachel, scarcely looking a day older than when she had run into Central Perk in her wedding dress, Ross, looking as happy as could be – all his dreams were fulfilled; he had Rachel for keeps now, Phoebe, looking different to Ursula for once; she had cut her long blond hair quite short, Joey, looking older, but happy; he was married, had children, and was in a successful soap, and Chandler. Chandler had changed a lot, Monica reflected; he was more mature, more caring, responsible, committed… perfect. And she knew that there had been changes in herself, too. She looked different; her short hair made her look younger, her figure was fuller after six children, but the biggest changes were mentally. No longer the insecure girl, but a happy woman now. Everything was perfect. It was Christmas, after all.