A/N: Hello, readers! I'm here with my FIRST Friends story! Friends is one of my favorite tv series (behind Scrubs), but, I've always been a little intimidated to write a story for it! I wanted to be able to do it justice! So, here we are! Hopefully, I succeed!
Now, Pheobe has always been one of my favorite characters of the series. Adding Mike into her "world" only made me love her (and him) so much more! This story is set after the series finish, in 2009. From "research" online and other such sources, they said Pheobe was born around 1966, so, for my story to be about five years after the end of the series, would put Pheobe at 43.
This story is meant for pure fun and will just show some of the challenges and obstacles of Pheobe as she goes through her pregnancy!
I hope you all enjoy as much as I have writing it! Please leave a comment after, I always love hearing from you!
Holy, Mother!
Chapter 1: But, I'm Old!
Phoebe Hannigan never feared getting older. In fact, it was something that she embraced.
To her, all it meant was being: "just that much closer to getting front row parking and discounted meals!"
However, it seemed after hitting the big 4-0, the downside of getting older meant a "bitch-ton" of more doctor appointments. In the three years since reaching the age before the age of the halfway checkpoint, Phoebe had seen the doctor for breast exams, blood pressure, pelvic exams, Pap smears, and cholesterol. To name a few...of many.
She had been poked, prodded, and fondled more times than a hooker during the holidays.
As for today, the lucky exam picked was: pelvic exam day. Nothing quite matched lying on your back on the hospital bed, dressed in those oddly itchy hospital gowns, with your feet propped up on those sternums, with your bajingo on full display, while the Doctor's head and hands played your crotch region like a keyboard.
Luckily, Dr. Hilary Patrick was a professional and excellent gynecologist.
"So, are vaginas like snowflakes? You know, unique and individual in their own way?" Phoebe inquired, twiddling her thumbs as they rested on her stomach.
"You know, Phoebe, I've said this before and I'll say it again: when I'm down here, there is no need for small talk." Dr. Patrick replied. Always the professional. "Alrighty, Phoebe, we are almost to the end of the exam. I'm just going to check your cervix."
"If I act like a big girl, do I get a lollipop?" Phoebe quipped, laughing at her own joke. Man, did she think she was funny!
Dr. Patrick ignored her comment, "Alright, I'm going to be using two fingers to check, are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be." Phoebe replied, taking a deep breath in. Despite her many, many, many pelvic exams, Phoebe appreciated Dr. Patrick always walked her through the process.
'Alright, Pheebs, first it's always the...COLD! Followed by the...YUP! And we have found ourselves home plate. Dr. Patrick is a "no dinner and movie" kind of gal.'
Getting as settled as was possible, Phoebe directed her attention toward the ceiling. Seemed as perfect an opportunity as any for counting ceiling tiles.
...Twelve. There were twelve. That game ended rather quickly.
"Hmmm." The reaction from Dr. Patrick was quiet, but still enough volume to catch the blonde's attention.
"Hmmm? What's 'hmmm'? No offense Dr. Patrick, but, it's never a reassuring thing for a woman to be near her vagina and say 'hmmmmmmm'!" Phoebe berated, raising up from the hospital bed in an attempt to see what the doctor was seeing. But, to no avail. Curse you, foot shackles!
Dr. Patrick repositioned herself away from the "garden of Phoebe", pulling down her mask and removing her gloves. "Phoebe, when was the last time you had your period?"
The question caught Phoebe off guard. Taking a moment, and breaking out the "math fingers", Phoebe concluded, "Like seven weeks ago."
Dr. Patrick raised an eyebrow. "You know you are supposed to have them every month, right? You didn't find it odd that it had been irregular?"
"Well, yeah, a little." Phoebe stammered. "But, I just thought I was getting closer to menopause and that meant the closer I got, the lesser they became."
"While you are getting closer to the age of Menopause, I don't think that's quite the case we have going on here, Phoebe." Dr. Patrick explained. "I think you might be pregnant."
Pregnant.
Pregnant!
PregnantPregnantPregnantPregnantPregnantPregnantPregnantPregnantPregnant.
The word echoed through her head as she attempted to wrap her brain around it. The word and it was directed at her, which would mean…
Phoebe's eyes grew wide, "WHAT!? But-but, Dr. Patrick, I'm old!"
Dr. Patrick laughed. Sure, now she had a sense of humor. "Phoebe, it is quite common, especially nowadays, for women to get pregnant in their forties. Now, we won't know for certain unless we do a couple of tests. Is this something you would like to do today or would you rather wait for your husband to be present?"
Phoebe thought about it for a moment, "No. No, we can do it now. I would rather know now. Why get Mike worked up if it ends up being nothing, right?"
WIth a nod of her head, Dr. Patrick left the room to go get the test. Leaving Phoebe with her thoughts.
The concept of children wasn't necessarily a foreign idea to Phoebe. Her nearest and dearest friends had children. She had carried triplets for her brother. Hell, she was a child at one point.
However, they weren't talking about an ordinary child. This would be her child. Her and Mike's child. They had both abandoned the idea of a child once Phoebe reached 40. They were happy with their family consisting of each other, their two ferrets, Pebbles and BamBam, and their cockatoo, Walter Kronkite.
Now, there was a baby. Or, at least, the possibility of a baby.
Phoebe placed her hand on her stomach and whispered. "Baby Hannigan are you in there?"
TBC...
Next: Chapter 2: Call Me Daddy...