I haven't let my husband touch me in months—nothing outside of the normal, casual touches that occur between people, at least.

I've kissed him from time to time, though nothing overly romantic, and on the occasions when I actually do wake up next to him in bed, we're usually wrapped around each other, but other than that…nothing.

The first six weeks after William was born, it was easy—neither of us thought much about it, really. I certainly wasn't medically cleared for sex, and I could tell my body was nowhere near ready for it. Even after my doctor gave me the okay, I held off. I just didn't feel ready.

And Chandler never pushed me; he seemed to understand my exhaustion; he's been pretty wiped, too.

But I know he's been feeling…anxious lately.

It's been three months since our baby was born—part of me feels that way, too.

But…I just can't.

I know it must be driving him crazy.

And then I feel worse about it, knowing he's going without.

He's so patient with me, so good to me, but…

It's so stupid.

I'm scared to take my clothes off in front of him now.

I haven't been naked in front of him since just after William was born.

I want to blame it on postpartum depression, and for a little while, I could.

Now it's just insecurity. Insecurities I didn't realize I have, or at least thought I'd gotten over a long time ago.

I just look so different now. I haven't been able to get back into the shape I was in a year ago—who has that kind of time? I have twin toddlers who are now a year and a half old, and a three month old who may be the fussiest baby ever to exist. I'm up with him constantly because it feels like he's always crying. I haven't been able to go back to work yet because he doesn't seem to be able to handle being around other people.

It's not as if Chandler doesn't help. He tries to. I've just been using my son's fussiness as an excuse to avoid my husband.

I'm a horrible person.

But William truly is a whole different can of worms. I don't think I realized just how lucky we got with Jack and Erica until I spent a week with this one. I think he cried more in his first seven days of life than the twins did in their entire first month combined.

I'm sure the fact that I'm stressed and tense isn't helping him. It doesn't seem to be doing much for the twins, who now go to their father for almost everything.

Serves me right.

It breaks my heart, but it serves me right.

All of my attention goes to the baby, and I know Jack and Erica have to feel neglected, and that is the absolute last thing that I want, but I don't know how to change it right now.

Today was the first semi-normal day we've had in a long time; we all went into Manhattan to visit Phoebe, Mike, and their baby, Amelia, who was just born a couple of weeks ago. The twins found her fascinating, the way they did when William was born.

The bloom has considerably worn off that rose in the last few months; their little faces scrunch up whenever he starts to fuss, so I inevitably just take him into another room. Another reason I'm sure they feel like Mommy doesn't care.

But after that, we brought our three to a pumpkin patch, which might have been the cutest thing in the world. Watching our two little people hobble from pumpkin to pumpkin, trying to pick up the big ones, did me a world of good.

Something else that did me a world a good—a sling.

It's so simple; I don't know why I didn't think of it on my own. One of our neighbors stopped by the other day, though, and casually mentioned what she used to do when her baby would cry for hours on end.

A sling.

I immediately looked up different "sling" methods, hazards, what have you, and stuck him in one yesterday while we tooled around the house.

He seemed to like it.

So we gave it a whirl today.

Barely a peep out of the kid.

I haven't felt this relaxed in months.

As an added bonus, when he got hungry, the trough was right there.

I think I actually smiled today. Repeatedly.

Sadly, just that is cause for celebration. I spend more time crying than anything else lately. I don't necessarily feel depressed—just anxious. Mostly because I know that I'll have to talk to Chandler about this. I'm sure he'll tell me I'm overreacting, and logically, I know that I am. He loves me.

Again, logically, I know that.

I just can't convince myself that it's not all in my head.

William makes a disgruntled noise and I look down at him; he's rubbing his face against my chest. Hungry again. The kid can eat.

Probably gets it from me.

I pull the curtain shut and sit down on the edge of our bed, pulling up my shirt and unsnapping my bra, his mouth latching onto me within moments. It's amazing to watch. I know in this respect that I got incredibly lucky with him; some babies need to be convinced to eat.

Not mine, though. Not one of them.

Of course, if all the literature is to be believed, that's probably going to change for the twins soon. They've already become pickier about what they'll eat.

I see Chandler walk into the room out of the corner of my eye; I lift my head and smile at him for a moment before turning my attention back to the baby. The bed dips a bit as he sits next to me, his hand behind my back, next to my hip. His other hand gently strokes William's head.

"Hey, little guy," he says softly. William's eyes flutter up to his father for a moment, his forehead wrinkled in concentration and we both chuckle a little.

"I know. Tell Daddy not to bother you while you're eating," I say, smiling.

"I think he just did. That's quite the look he's giving me right now."

I glance up at Chandler, smirking a little. "He has your suction."

He laughs, and I swear his cheeks turn just a little pink. "Well, it's good to know I've passed my legacy on to someone." He kisses my shoulder, his fingers coming up to trace the top of my breast. "Hard to believe that my funbags are this guy's main source of nutrition."

I feel my body tense, and I stand up, moving out of Chandler's reach. "I should check on the twins," I mumble, pulling the baby closer against me. I hear Chandler sigh behind me; he sounds so sad.

"Monica, are we going to talk about this?"

I pause, feeling my eyes fill with tears. "Talk about what?"

"About how you've been avoiding me. You won't let me hug you, or kiss you, and God forbid I try to touch you in anyway. You keep running away from me."

"That's not true," I tell him, even though I know I'm lying.

"Just tell me what I did so I can fix it."

I didn't see that one coming; I never thought he'd assume he'd done something wrong. I shake my head, watching a tear splash down on William's little face; he doesn't even flinch. "You didn't do anything."

All of a sudden he's in front of me, his hands holding my face gently. His thumbs wipe away my tears, his face full of concern. "Honey…what's wrong? Why are you so sad all the time?"

How do I explain this to him? He's the one person in the world whose opinion of me really matters, and he's also the only person who just loves me for me, who shouldn't really care that I have a post-baby body.

He must see something on my face; he pulls me into his arms, and for the first time in weeks, I don't fight it. I cry into his shoulder, partly because it feels so good to have his arms around me, and partly because I need this. "Monica; talk to me. Please…talk to me. Whatever this is, I want to make it better." I feel him kiss the side of my head, his arms tightening around me. "I hate seeing you cry like this."

"It's just so stupid," I whimper.

"Anything that has you this upset can't be stupid," he reassures me, and it makes me feel even worse. How can he be this understanding?

I look down at the baby—amazingly, he's still nursing peacefully. I look back to Chandler; he looks so helpless and distraught. I feel myself cry even harder.

He leads me over to the bed, sitting me down, and kneels in front of me. "Please…talk to me."

I shake my head. "I…don't know…how…" is all I can get out in between sobs.

He puts his hands on my knees, squeezing them gently. "You've always been able to talk to me."

"I'm a horrible wife," I whisper, dropping my chin to my chest.

"No, you're not! Why on earth would you say that?" He sounds genuinely astounded that I would even think it.

"You're so good to me—you're so patient, and sweet, and I know I've been a basket case."

"Honey, you just had a baby—I think it takes a little while before you start to feel normal again."

"And…" I try to swallow the lump in my throat and whisper, "we haven't had sex since before William was born." I peek up at him, watch his eyes grow wide.

"Is that what this is about? Because we haven't had sex in a few months?"

I shrug, feeling stupid. "Partly. I mean, I know you're probably all kinds of horny—"

"When am I not?" he asks, and I give a watery chuckle.

"But I haven't been holding up my end of the bargain."

"Monica…again…you just had a baby. I know that things are going to take some time to get back to normal. It's okay."

I sniffle and look down; William's starting to drift off. His mouth goes slack every so often before he wakes himself up enough to start at it again for a few moments.

"Is that why you won't let me near you?" I just shrug, lifting the baby to my shoulder, rubbing his back gently. "Do you think I'm going to jump you or something?"

"No," I whisper. "Chandler, I told you this is stupid."

"You said partly," he says suddenly. "It's only partly because we haven't had sex for a while that you're feeling like this. What's the rest of it?"

I feel William's body jump as he burps. I shift him in my arms and wipe off his face. "We should put him to bed," I say softly.

"I've got him," he answers, pulling the baby from my arms; I snap my bra back into place and tug my shirt back down as I kiss his forehead.

"Night night, sweetie," I whisper. He snuffles for a moment, but stays asleep. I look up and Chandler's mouth is suddenly on mine—gentle, but determined. I feel a shudder ripple through my body, my hands instinctively going to his arms, pulling him a little closer.

"I love you," he tells me, and I feel my heart constrict. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He leaves the room, and moment later I can hear him through the monitor in the baby's room across the hall. I cross my arms and lean against the window, pulling the curtain back just a little, listening to Chandler read to our son. His voice soothes me as I try to find those happy feelings from earlier today.

I'm only partly successful.

I realize the monitor is silent; I feel Chandler's fingertips on my waist and I jump away, almost as if I've been burned.

"Okay, seriously, Monica. What's going on?" I turn to face him; he's slumped on the bed, elbows on his knees. "You're acting like I'm going to hit you."

I hang my head, ashamed. "Chandler…it's not you. This is all me."

"What is all you? Why are you so freaked out?"

I take a deep breath and spit it out, like pulling off a bandage. "I'm afraid to be naked."

Aside from the white noise of the baby monitors, the room is completely silent. I turn away, tears brimming in my eyes again.

A moment later, I feel Chandler's hands on my waist again, and even though I tense up, I let him slide his arms around me. He pulls me tight against him, his chin resting on my shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I look…my body is…everything's so different now." I grab onto his fingers, squeezing. "I don't know how else to describe it. Everything about my body is different now."

"So?"

"So?! What do you mean, 'so?'"

"So your body looks different. You carried a baby around for nine months; I'd be surprised if things didn't change." He kisses my neck and sighs. "But I take it you're not that okay with it."

"I want to be. I'm trying to be, but…I look weird."

"Does it make any difference to you at all if I tell you I think you look beautiful?"

I shrug; I want it to. "You haven't seen me."

"Maybe not, but I'd love to if you'd give me the chance."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would. I told you years ago, Mon—balloon up or shrink down and it doesn't matter to me. You are the love of my life—the physical stuff doesn't matter."

"It has to matter to you a little bit."

I feel him shake his head as he gives me another squeeze. "It doesn't. If it's upsetting you, then yes, it upsets me, but I love you. The whole package. I loved every single moment of your pregnancy and every change your body went through. This is part of that."

I turn in his arms, burrowing myself into him. I really, really want to believe him. "I don't want you to think I'm ugly."

"I won't. Not ever."

I want to bring up Thanksgiving all those years ago, but I don't—it's not fair to hold that over his head his whole life.

"So, this is why barely let me even kiss you?"

I nod, clutching his t-shirt in my fists. "Yeah. Please don't think that I don't want you—I do. I miss you touching me and kissing me. But I'm afraid if we do that, it'll lead to clothes coming off and—"

"One step at a time, Mon. I just want you to be comfortable with me again. That's all that matters. We'll work on it, okay? We'll start jogging again if getting back into shape is what you want to do, or find something else. We'll do it together."

"You'd be willing to wait that long to have sex again?"

"Yes. I'm serious—all that matters is you being comfortable."

I feel myself relax against him a little; I've missed this so much. "You don't think I'm stupid for feeling this way?"

"I think you're completely human. Just…don't hide it from me, okay? I want to be there for you, but I can't if you shut me out."

"Okay," I whisper.

We're silent for a while. I can hear Erica through the monitor, making noises in her sleep, snoring occasionally. I really didn't know that having a baby was going to be like this. I remember telling Chandler that I was okay with my body changing, even though I wasn't sure that he was. Maybe I was lying to myself. Maybe I truly believed it at that point.

Or maybe I'm still just an insecure teenager who was picked on too many times growing up. Maybe I'm afraid of going back to being that overweight, even though I know I'm nowhere near that right now.

I don't know—maybe it's just the fear of my husband reacting badly to my body that makes me not okay with the changes it's been through. There was a point late in my pregnancy when I had a lot of the same concerns and he was quick to reassure me, to show me how beautiful and desirable he thought me to be.

Maybe I should try believing in him.

"Can I ask a favor?" His voice cuts through my reverie and I tighten my arms around him.

"Sure."

"Can we just…lie in bed together for a while? Nothing has to happen, but I miss holding you. I just want to be near you."

I take a deep breath and nod. I take a step away from him, reaching under my shirt and unhooking my bra. I pull it out through my sleeves and toss it in the hamper; Chandler stares at me, smiling a little.

"I wish you could understand how hot it is to watch a woman do that." I reach out and grab his fingers, swinging them in between us for a moment. Climbing into bed with my own husband feels awkward.

He steps into me and leans down, kissing me. He gives me a little tug toward the bed and slides in between the covers. Before I can over-think it, I slide in next to him. He pulls me into him and I sigh as our bodies mold together, fitting together perfectly.

Just like always.

He reaches over and turns off the bedside light, then strokes my back and kisses my forehead. "How was your day?" he asks me, and I can feel him smiling.

"It was good," I tell him. "Took my kids to a pumpkin patch, watched their father act goofier than they do. Pretty standard, really."

"I'm not goofier than a couple of eighteen-month-olds." I remain silent. "Okay, I'm not always goofier than a couple of eighteen-month-olds."

I chuckle a little, closing my eyes, breathing him in. I really missed this. "Can you believe it's almost Halloween again? I don't even know what to dress them up as."

"Scarecrow, Cowardly Lion, and Tin Man?"

"You joke, but that just might happen." I feel his hand at the waistband of my pajama pants, one finger stroking the small of my back; my insides quiver.

"I would never joke about the kids' Halloween costumes."

I shift myself into him a little. "Hey, Chandler?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Will you kiss me?'

That's all I have say; he presses his lips against mine and I moan softly. I feel his fingers push into my back a little. I slide my hand up his back, rubbing him gently.

I pull away a few minutes later, gasping. "You okay?" he whispers, his lips still close to mine. I just nod, moving my hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his mouth back to mine. He turns a little, my back pushing into the mattress, his body half-draped over mine and I whimper quietly. I'd forgotten how much I love the feel of his body on mine. My leg slides over his, my foot rubbing his calf.

His hand moves to my side, his fingers slipping under my shirt, and my entire body tenses, my lips pulling away from his inadvertently.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, moving his hand back down to my hip.

I take a few deep breaths, forcing myself to relax. "It's all right," I finally say.

"No; I was pushing you."

"No, you weren't. You were just doing what we've always done. It's okay." I caress his cheek, trying to get the worried look off his face. "Really." I swallow, and even though my hands feel a little shaky, I grab the bottom of my shirt and start to pull it up.

His hands cover mine, stilling my motions. "You don't have to do this, Monica. You don't have to prove anything to me. I love you no matter what."

"I think I need to prove something to myself," I tell him. "I'll let you know if it's too much." I take another deep breath and pull my shirt over my head, dropping it somewhere on the floor. Even in the dim light of the moon filtering in through the curtains, I see his pupils dilate before he looks below my neck.

I wait.

A few moments later, he pulls his own shirt off, settling his body against mine, and I feel a little surprised. "Don't you want to…"

"What? Stare at you and make you feel self-conscious? I'm good." I'm silenced by his lips on mine, his hands roaming across my back, and in this moment, I can't remember why I was so worried about him seeing me.

He moves his lips to my neck, nipping my skin. "Let me know if you need me to stop." I nod, and begins a slow descent down my body. He trails across my clavicle before moving down my chest, slowing as he reaches my breasts. He kisses them gently, his hands cupping them, and it's so sweet that I think I could cry. "So, how does this work?"

My eyes open slowly. "Huh?"

He traces a finger gently over my nipple, and I shiver from the sensation. "The whole breast milk situation. It's not going to shoot me in the eye, is it?"

I laugh a little, and his eyes follow the motions of my chest. "It shouldn't. It's mostly contained to William and his needs. Just don't suck on them and you should be fine."

"And if I do suck on them?"

"I think your son will be pretty pissed off that Dad's eating his food."

"Ooo. Don't want to face that kind of wrath."

I know what he's doing, and I love him even more for it. He's distracting me, making me laugh, trying to make things as normal as they can be.

He really is the best.

He smiles at me softly—he knows that I know—and continues with his mission. He takes his time at my breasts, exploring every inch of territory possible before moving down, very slowly, to my abdomen.

For a while, I don't even think about it.

He takes his time worshipping me, kissing as much skin as he can get his lips on, and it's amazing. And it's not completely about sex. He's just showing me how much he loves me, all of me.

He's doing a very good job of it.

My body jerks and freezes up when he reaches my lower stomach, and he only hesitates for a moment before his lips continue to move across me.

"Can you believe William used to live in there?" he mumbles to me, and I reach out and stroke his hair.

"When I see how big he's gotten in the past three months, no. It's hard to believe he was ever small enough to fit there."

He grins up at me. "We didn't produce a massive baby, Mon. He's still pretty teeny."

"Didn't feel that way when he was coming out of me."

"Yeah, I guess it wouldn't." His lips return to my stomach, moving across to my hips, and part of me still feels nervous, as if at any moment he's going to back away from me, repulsed.

But he doesn't. He just gently caresses my skin; I can feel him moaning from time to time. He looks so happy right now.

"This has been tough on you, too, hasn't it?" I ask suddenly, and he reluctantly pulls his lips away, resting his chin on my stomach, a finger gently tracing my bellybutton.

"Yeah. I've just missed you. I thought I'd done something wrong, or maybe I wasn't helping with William enough."

"You've been wonderful. Don't ever forget it." I trace a finger down his nose to his lips, and he kisses the tip. "I love you, Chandler. Forever."

He moves back up my body, settling against me once more, and I moan when I feel his erection press against me. I guess I have my answer as to whether or not I still turn him on. He kisses me again, his lips attacking mine a little less gently now. I feel his fingers at the edge of my pajamas, and I don't stop him when he slides his fingers under my panties; he avoids making contact, but it feels pretty good anyway.

His fingers brush across me and it feels like a bolt of lightning. My hips jerk and I gasp into his mouth; he moves his hand instantly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I pant. "Yeah. I'm just a little…sensitive."

"I can stop."

"Just…go slow."

His fingers move across me, lighter this time, and my body doesn't react quite as violently.

"I missed you," he whispers, and a tear leaks out of the corner of my eye.

"I missed you, too."

A whimper filters out of the monitor and we both pause, waiting. William snuffles and whines and I hold my breath.

"Maybe he'll go back to sleep," Chandler says, hopefully. He might—it's happened once or twice. A few moments later, the whine turns into a full-fledge cry, and Chandler presses his head against my shoulder for a moment.

"Or not," I say, my body sagging into the bed.

"Cockblocked," he says, kissing my neck and sitting up. "By my own son."

I put my hands over my face and laugh. "Figures." I start to sit up, but Chandler puts his hand on my shoulder.

"I'll check on him." He winces a little as he climbs out of bed, bent at the waist just a bit. He makes a face at me and I try to stifle my laughter as he staggers across the hall.

I can hear him through the monitor, talking to the baby as he pulls him out of his crib, gently shushing him as he changes the diaper.

William still sounds less than thrilled.

I look up as his cries fill the room a moment later to see Chandler standing in the doorway, the baby naked except for his diaper, curled against his father's chest as he wails. Chandler sighs as he sits on the bed, propping himself up against the headboard; I curl into his side. Now that we've started back on the road to intimacy, I'm reluctant to lose contact with him.

"Little jerkpants just knew his parents were in the middle of some stuff," Chandler says, kissing his forehead.

I rub William's back, trying to help soothe him. "Why is our baby naked?"

"Oh; I read an article recently about how the skin to skin contact can be very soothing to fussy babies. I was hoping it'd work for this one, especially since it seems to do wonders for his parents."

His little cries are heartbreaking. I hold out my hands for him and Chandler shifts him into my arms, pulling him to my chest. "All right, Chunky. Tell me you're hungry again." He latches on again, sucking greedily. "I know. It's been tens of minutes since you last ate. The horror of it all."

Chandler chuckles and whispers in my ear, "Cockblocked."

"He certainly has great timing," I agree, stroking William's head, Chandler's hand joining mine as we watch him eat. "It's a good thing he's cute."

"I know. Otherwise, we'd have to send him back."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "Certainly not the way he came."

He cringes, shaking his head. "Ooo. No. Definitely not." He kisses my cheek, then rests his chin on my shoulder. "Are we okay?"

I turn my head, smiling at him gently. "Yeah. We're good. We're really good."

He leans over, kissing me softly. "Good."

I rest my head against his; I'll probably need more convincing, and I'm sure I'll have more moments where I backslide and feel horrible about myself, but for the first time I feel like it's going to be okay. I have my husband. He's not going anywhere.

I'm so thankful that.

*A/N…just a heads up to people not on Twitter and who may be interested, I updated chapter 15 a few days ago, so head on back to that one if the mood strikes you.