Day 118 (week 17/19)
"Aren't you sleepy yet? Come on, it's late."
"I'm coming! Just a minute."
After a while she did come, but hesitated in the door of their bedroom. Chandler, who had already been lying down, sat up again.
"What is it?"
"I don't really know …"
Chandler sighed and got out of the bed again. "So … green cheese dip and crackers? Mint chocolate chip ice cream? Or both?"
Monica puckered her face and shrugged helplessly. "I really don't know …"
"Shsh, no problem." He went to her and put his hands on her waist. "Take your time. The choice of your before-sleep-snack should not be taken lightly."
Monica closed her eyes and leaned against him wearily. "I know. I know! It's getting harder. I think I want something, and when I actually taste it, it's not right."
"So our baby's a little picky. I'd be too if my landlady/chief provider/caterer was a chef on top of all else."
Monica took a deep breath. "Alright … alright … I think I know … ooookaayy …. It's coming … It's – yes! WALNUTS!"
"Walnuts?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No. No, actually I think we still have some walnut flavored ice cream. That is if the twins haven't got at it yet …"
"Um, could you …?"
"If you get into bed now, yes, I'll get it for you. And a napkin. And a towel. Anything else?"
Monica shook her head and then held him back.
"I love you so much" she whispered. Chandler smiled at her.
"Aw, I get it, you want the whole box."
.
Much later, after he had put the box back in the fridge (she had actually managed about a third of it) and she had brushed her teeth, they settled into their usual before-sleep spooning, with his right arm under her head and their hands entwined, and with their other hands on her bump that had become much more defined in the last 4 weeks.
"Oh, I forgot, I got an appointment for another sonogram Wednesday next week. 16.30, can you make that?"
"Sure, no problem."
"You keep saying that. Is it really okay? I thought June was a busy time, with the end of the fiscal year?"
"Yeah, but I can do it from home. I told them I don't want to do presentations and campaign layouts so much right now and they're really happy to dump all that statistics stuff and consumer assessment on me."
"But you hate that."
"Hate? When I can spend more time here with you? I'm very much fine with that."
"But it's so much like your old job, I thought you never wanted to do that again."
"It's not like my old job at all. I've got my own parking space and the coffee is much better."
She sighed deeply. "You know what I mean."
"I guess. You're right – mostly. But this is more important now. I wouldn't want it any other way."
It was indeed true. Very soon after he had started in the advertising company he had come to realize that a lot of the advertising work was not all that different from what he used to do – and moreover had been good at. So good in fact that as soon as his new bosses had looked at his résumé they kept steering him towards the consumer statistics analysis work. At first he'd balked at this, but then he'd come to realize that it would entitle him to a much higher salary a lot sooner than he had thought possible. And also that there was, alas, no shortage of colleagues who could write great copy, plus that the work, though technically much the same, really was much more rewarding and fulfilling here than in his previous company. Obviously it hadn't been so much the job itself but the bad work climate and corporate identity that had made his past job so unbearable for him. He still tried to keep his hand in with copywriting and campaign layouts whenever he could, if only to prove to himself that he could do it. And because it was more fun, even if – or because – the competition was high.
"Anyway, we can look at our baby again then."
"Oooh yeah. All six inches of it. I can't wait."
"And maybe – if we want to of course – we'll get to know …"
"If it's a boy or a girl?"
"Yeah. Do you want to know?"
"Do you want to know?"
Monica screwed up her face and sighed. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe we will see it anyway, whether we want to or not."
"Well, I don't so much. And sonograms can be wrong. It doesn't matter anyway."
Monica squeezed his fingers again and closed her eyes.
"Um …"
"What is it?"
"They – Dr. Lotz asked me which tests we wanted done."
"Tests? What tests?"
"Amniocentesis. And other prenatal diagnostic testing. You know, to check for things like Down syndrome and other genetic disorders."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Do you want those tests?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded firmly. "Yes. I know we're probably in an increased risk group and all that, but I just don't see what good testing would be. It's our baby. Nothing can change that."
"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up for me too." He gently cupped her bump that still fitted under his hand, though barely. "I guess it's really a moo point as Joey would say."
Monica chuckled at that and pressed her face against his arm, sniffing a little with her laughter, and Chandler kissed her on the shoulder and on her neck.
"Chandler?"
"Mmmh?"
"Have you – can you feel it moving yet?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think so. It's hard to tell. Have you?"
"I don't know … maybe a little, you know as if it's sort of floating around, shifting. But not so that I can really say for sure."
"Well, its early days still. We'll just have to be patient."
She chuckled again. "Can you? Be patient?"
"Sure."
"Really?"
"Well no. But I can't very well kick its ass, can I?"
"Not, if you don't want your ass kicked. By me."
.
Day 122 (week 18/20)
.
It was as perfect a Father's Day as any father could wish for. Especially for three fathers in Citi Field where the mid June sky was a deep blue with hardly a cloud in sight. Thanks to Joey they had pretty good seats. They had beer and hot dogs and nachos. Since Joey hadn't been able to make it to New York after all, they had taken Ben with them instead, which meant they would have their own chauffeur to take them home after the game. The Mets had been in the lead from the first inning and it didn't look as if the Padres would be able to catch up ever.
Everything was as great as could be and now he was actually glad that Monica had made him go, almost kicked him out of the house even that morning. He was anxious to get back home to her and the twins and most of all the little tough cookie, but it felt really good to spend some major quality time with Ross, Mike and Ben. The latter especially, even before he had gone to college at NYU he had seen him infrequently at best, and since then never. He couldn't get over how grown up the boy already seemed. At 19 he looked much more mature than he and Ross had at that age. No Flock of Seagulls hair for that one, most definitely. Chandler wondered if the photos and videos from his dad of that time had something to do with this or if he had gotten more than just his looks from his mother. Or both.
"So, when will you get new pics of your baby?" Ross asked when he'd finished showing Ben the first sonogram video of the little tough cookie.
"Wednesday afternoon. I'll mail them to you right away."
"And how's that stethoscope working out for you?"
"Great! I wish I could record the sounds I'm getting from Monica's belly. They're unbelievable."
"Dude …"
"Yeah, they remind me of those whale singing sounds sometimes." By then Mike was grinning openly while Ross wrinkled his nose and Ben pretended to be wrapped up in the game below them.
"No heartbeat yet?"
"I think I got that too, a couple of times. Kinda like a fast ticking."
"Have you felt it moving yet?" Mike asked.
"No, not yet, and neither has Monica. But we should be getting something any day now."
"I felt Ben's first kick" Ross said proudly and shared a quick glance and a smile with his son, who obviously had heard the story before. On many occasions. As had Chandler, but Mike somehow had missed it, and that was enough to launch Ross into the story once more.
"So I kept talking to Carole's bump for hours, about just everything that came into my head, until it occurred to me to try singing –"
"You mean when Carole suggested that you try singing?" Ross shot him a dirty look.
"So I did, and when I sang that theme song from the Monkees, Ben kicked. For the first time ever. It totally freaked us out."
"Awesome."
"Yeah. I tell ya, that first kick – there's nothing like it. Nothing. Is there?"
"I saw Lily kicking" Mike offered. "I mean it showed on Phoebe's belly. I don't know if it was her foot or her hand though. She kept doing it afterwards, but every time I got my camera ready, she stopped again, that little minx."
"You remember those boxing matches the triplets had in Phoebe's belly?" Chandler asked. "And how she kept shouting at them to behave? Never worked though."
"Still doesn't" Mike said sadly. "I'm really glad they moved to Delaware. Frank Jr. told me they are now known as the Triplets of Terror all over the state."
"Have you thought about a name yet?" Ross asked.
"Well, I haven't, not really. I'm sure Monica has about a dozen all ready. But nothing definite yet."
"And at the sonogram, will you get to know - ?"
"Unless it's flaunted right under our noses, no, we'd rather wait until the birth. I don't really trust sonograms any more you know." Ross guffawed and Chandler winced when he saw that Mike and Ben too had caught on immediately. Some stories really got told too often.
"But don't you have to call it Muriel too? You did say it was a family tradition."
"Only if it's a boy."
"What?"
"Seriously. It has to be the firstborn son too. The second son gets Helena as second name. What? Where do you think my father got his stage name from? Incidentally that rules out Helena as name too if it's a girl."
"You got to be kidding. Your father's second name is –"
"I'm sooo happy I don't have a middle name" Ben muttered and they all laughed at that.
.
When he finally got to bed that night, it had gotten very late. After taking him home, the others had stayed for dinner – barbecue in the backyard – and swapped stories and memories long until after the twins had gone to bed. It wasn't until Monica nodded off on Chandler's shoulder that Ross could be persuaded to let Ben take Mike and him home. Monica, who had been too tired to protest much when he insisted on straightening the yard by himself, went off to bed ahead of him and was already fast asleep by the time he had finished. Now she was lying on her side facing him, and after he'd turned out the light he scooted down a little until his head was on a level with the bump, gently pushing up her nighty until he could cover it with both his hands. Then he closed his eyes and tried to relax, think of nothing, opening himself to the sensations of Monica's scent and warmth, the feel of her skin under his hands, the sound of her breathing and the way it made her abdomen lightly rise and sink again. He got closer still until the tip of his nose touched her navel, and then lightly brushed his lips over her skin just under it.
When the first kick came, soft and almost dreamily slow, pushing ever so gently against his left index finger, he was so lost in his trance that it took his sleep befuddled brain some moments to register the sensation and even longer to work out the meaning. When realization finally hit, he froze and held his breath, waiting and straining all senses to confirm to him that what had just happened had really happened and not just been a dream or a product of his imagination. But just when he let out his breath again, almost convinced it had been a dream, it happened again, this time against his ring finger, just over the wedding band. He couldn't tell if it was a foot or a hand that he felt or maybe the little tough cookie's head. Or even its tiny butt. Only that it was his baby that was moving around there, squirming, stretching its limbs under Monica's skin and bumping up against it, as if it was reaching out and trying to touch him.
"Knock-knock, who's there?" he said very softly as not to wake up Monica and then had to bite back the laughter that was bubbling out of him. "Hey my baby's come a-knocking! Hey baby … hey there, it's me. I'm your dad, and funny's all I have!" This time his thumb fielded the next kick. "Yeah, you know that already, don't you? I guess that's a yes. And that I love you so much, you know that too, right?" The tiny movements seemed to shift a little to the middle so that the next kick pushed right against the tip of his nose that was still touching Monica's belly over the navel. "Whoa, you're really packing a wallop here! Just don't knock yourself out!" He pursed his mouth against Monica's belly again, very softly, and to his utter delight the minuscule bump caused by the next kick rose right under his lips. He could feel the sudden tiny bulge under the skin, the minute energy behind the movement, and for a split second even the texture of the tiny body part straining against him. When it withdrew again he pursed his lips, trying to follow it in and keep up the fleeting contact a tiny bit longer.
Then Monica suddenly shifted sleepily under his hands, turning on her back, one of her arms grazing his shoulder. Still half asleep she groped for him and drew up her knees. When her thigh pressed against his arm, she finally came fully awake.
"Chandler? Umm …. what -?"
"Shh. The baby just moved!"
"… what ..?" For a moment she lay utterly still, then her hands came down over his, searching slowly but urgently. "The baby – are you sure?"
"Well, either that or your intestine is really active right n- - - - whoa, whoa, there! There it was, did you -?"
"Oh … oh my god, yes! I did! I did! I can't believe it! When did it start?"
"Just now. I think it's playing footsies with me. Or handsies. I can't tell."
Monica shifted to her side again and hooked her leg over his waist. He pressed his face against her stomach just over the bump and they arranged their hands so that all of it was covered. For a long while nothing happened, and he felt himself nodding off again, then Monica breath hitched and she whimpered.
"There ... oh my god …" Her hands on the bump started to shake slightly, hardly noticeable and when he raised his head a little, searching for her lips, he caught a tear with them instead.
"Hey … are you -?"
"No. Yes. It's just - I'm so happy …"
"I know. Me too."
"You're crying too?!"
"Well, it did sock me a good one on the nose …"
Monica laughed and drew up her nose.
"Oh wow. Does that mean I'm carrying the million dollar baby?"
"Oh absolutely. The ultimate baby champion of all time, boxing its way to the top -"
"I think though it's getting sleepy now."
"Oh, finally. I thought it would keep this up all night."
Monica drew his head up and kissed him, then she turned around slowly to spoon up against him. When he started to stroke the bump gently, she sighed and put her hand on his.
"Chandler?"
"Mmmh?"
"If it kicks again, will you wake me up?"
"Of course. You really think I could handle it alone?"
