Title: Maybe
Summary: Chandler and Monica discuss their infertility.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: "Friends" and all it's lovely characters belong to Bright, Kauffman, and Crane Productions and Warner Brothers. This is not for profit, but merely for entertainment.
a/n: This story was inspired by Kreidy over at Friends-Boards. I wanted to write a story dealing with C and M and their infertility troubles but I couldn't find a slant that I wanted to write from. During a discussion on the Merge! Thread she posted this:
Once again, the biology-issue isn't really the issue here. I just want to make sure that:
a) Chandler doesn't blame himself for their infertility for the rest of his life.
b) Monica reassures him that she doesn't care whether their child is their biological child or not. After all, she's the character who's wanted a child since the beginning of the show.
I wrote to her and asked for her permission to use the ideas expressed here and she was kind enough to agree. I also need to thank Natchou for the help in finishing the story. I'm telling you—the ending was giving me fits. I didn't like my original ending so she suggested the one that happens. I still don't know that the ending is the best possible wrap up for the story—it feels too rushed, but I just cannot think of anything else. Anyway, I want to say thanks to Kreidy and Natchou!
"Maybe, when he offered, you should have chosen Richard." Chandler's words cut into the sleepy, satiated silence that enveloped his and Monica's bedroom.
Monica snatched her head up from where it had been resting on Chandler's chest and looked into his face, one side dark from the lack of light in the room. She wondered for a moment if she had dreamed his words about Richard. In order to clarify she asked, "What?"
"Remember, the night I was going to propose? How Richard showed up at your restaurant and said that he wanted to marry you and have children with you?" Chandler moved to sit up in the bed and Monica followed suit, reaching over to turn on the light, squinting her eyes as the brightness caused her pupils to shrink.
Monica shook her head at him, still confused. "Wha...Why are we talking about my ex-boyfriend—in bed of all places? Scratch that—why are we talking about Richard at all? Shouldn't I be complimenting you on your performance just now? Or shouldn't I be getting a backrub or maybe a second round?"
Chandler gave a small chuckle and reached behind him to grab his boxers from their perilous position on the headboard. "Babe...I'm serious. I've been thinking about this. And I especially think about it after we make love. Maybe you should've picked Richard when he came around."
Monica was floored. She stood up and moved to the foot of the bed to retrieve the shirt she was planning on sleeping in from the floor where Chandler had tossed it earlier in the evening. "Why are you thinking about Richard—especially after we make love?" She demanded from him, pulling his tee-shirt over her head and climbing back into the bed. Going for humor she quipped, "Is there something about you and Richard that I should know?"
Chandler frowned at her and smacked at her thigh lightly. "Don't even joke, Monica. Come on, I'm serious. Maybe you should've chosen Richard that night."
"Why should I have chosen Richard? I love you, Chandler. The right decision was to marry you, not him."
"God, Monica," Chandler said, staring her in the eyes, "I know that. And I love you, too. So much. But Richard...he can give you things that I can't. Damn it, Mon—he could give you a baby." Chandler looked down and began tracing patterns on the bed sheets, afraid to look Monica in the eye.
His words, again, cut into the stillness of the room, but these words lingered, shocking Monica more than the earlier ones about Richard.
A baby.
"Do you think..." Monica paused, aware that she wasn't sure what to say to Chandler. She had thought a lot about how their infertility issues affected her, but she hadn't really thought about the impact the revelation had on Chandler. "Do you think that our not being able to have a baby is your fault?"
Chandler continued to stare at the bed sheets beneath him, memorizing the floral pattern. "It is my fault, Mon. You heard what the doctor said."
"Oh, Sweetie," Monica murmured, raising up on her knees and moving in behind him, wrapping her arms around him, kissing his neck and rocking them back and forth, "this is not your fault. Nothing you did caused us to be unable to conceive. It's just a variety of factors. And, unfortunately, we had no control over them."
He nodded quickly as she continued to rock them. "But, still, Monica. You've wanted to be pregnant and have a baby—forever. Being with me has robbed you of that. If you were with Richard you'd probably already have a baby." He drew away from her ministrations and lowered his head into his hands. "How is it fair that he, as old as he is, can chose to have babies or not and that choice has been taken away from me—from us? How is it fair that every time I make love to you I feel an emptiness inside of me knowing that we can't create life together? Tell me," he implored, raising his head and looking into her eyes, "how is that fair? How is any of this fair to us?"
Monica's heart broke in that moment and a wave of sadness washed over her and she pulled Chandler to her, laying him down on the bed with her. The held one another and cried, each realizing that while they had cried separately over their loss that they had never really cried together.
After a few moments they each began to calm themselves and their tears, but they stayed wrapped in on another's arms. Monica raised a hand to wipe the tears from the corner of Chandler's eyes, "I am so incredibly glad that I married you. If I had gone with Richard I would have realized almost immediately what a mistake I had made. It is you that I love. And it is you that I want to—and am going to—have a baby with. Chandler please don't think that I blame you for our infertility. Because I don't. I never have. And I would never do that. This is a burden that has been placed on both of us—it's something that we have to face together."
Monica moved out of Chandler's arms and walked over to her purse, sitting on a chair near the closet. She rummaged around in it for a minute and then came back to the bed, sitting against the headboard. Chandler moved up, too, curious as to what she had in her hands. "And, Chandler," Monica said, "you have given me a baby. Maybe you and I didn't create him—or her—but you are the one responsible for us having this baby," she gestured to the ultrasound photo in her hand. "I've been carrying this picture around since Erica gave it to me. This, Chandler, is our baby. And maybe that's why we're infertile. So that this baby will be our baby."
Chandler took the photo from Monica and stared at it. "I am so happy that we will be the parents of this baby. But I can't help but feel that maybe you're missing out...not being able to be pregnant or give birth..." he trailed off, still studying the grainy black and white photo.
Monica let a puff of air escape her mouth, "Well, some things aren't meant to be," she gestured to the photo, "but some things are. I want to raise a baby with you, Chandler. I want to raise this baby with you."
Chandler nodded. "I want that, too," he whispered, pulling her close and kissing her softly.
She pulled away from his lips slightly, "And please don't blame yourself. This is not your fault. I don't blame you. And I certainly won't have you pushing me off on Richard."
Chandler laughed. "I wouldn't do that, not really...the big tree."
"What?" Monica shook her head, confused again.
"Nothing," he said, smiling, and placing their baby's first photo on the nightstand, "come here."
They lay down together again, Monica once again with her head on Chandler's chest. She was feeling drained from their emotional conversation but she still needed to know something. "Chandler...." She trailed off, unsure of how to ask.
He seemed, as always, to be in-tune with her and answered her unasked question, "I'll work on not blaming myself. It may take some time."
She nodded against his chest and closed her eyes, preparing herself for sleep, but opened her eyes again remembering Chandler's earlier words, words that had given her pause. "Chandler," she began, hesitantly, "do you really feel...empty...after we make love?"
His chest moved violently against her cheek as he drew a deep breath before answering. "It's just...knowing that a baby can never result, that we can't create anything through our love..." he trailed off, embarrassed and unsure of how to continue.
Monica contemplated this for a moment before sitting up and swinging her leg over his body to straddle him. Ignoring his shock, she lay down against him and whispered into his ear, "Maybe we can't create a baby together. But we do create life. When we make love I feel so much—so much more than I ever felt with anyone else. When we make love we create our life, Chandler."
He was quiet for a moment before turning his head to her then and kissing her, pulling back only once to whisper against her mouth, "Thank you" as they began to make love, and continue to create their life.
Summary: Chandler and Monica discuss their infertility.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: "Friends" and all it's lovely characters belong to Bright, Kauffman, and Crane Productions and Warner Brothers. This is not for profit, but merely for entertainment.
a/n: This story was inspired by Kreidy over at Friends-Boards. I wanted to write a story dealing with C and M and their infertility troubles but I couldn't find a slant that I wanted to write from. During a discussion on the Merge! Thread she posted this:
Once again, the biology-issue isn't really the issue here. I just want to make sure that:
a) Chandler doesn't blame himself for their infertility for the rest of his life.
b) Monica reassures him that she doesn't care whether their child is their biological child or not. After all, she's the character who's wanted a child since the beginning of the show.
I wrote to her and asked for her permission to use the ideas expressed here and she was kind enough to agree. I also need to thank Natchou for the help in finishing the story. I'm telling you—the ending was giving me fits. I didn't like my original ending so she suggested the one that happens. I still don't know that the ending is the best possible wrap up for the story—it feels too rushed, but I just cannot think of anything else. Anyway, I want to say thanks to Kreidy and Natchou!
"Maybe, when he offered, you should have chosen Richard." Chandler's words cut into the sleepy, satiated silence that enveloped his and Monica's bedroom.
Monica snatched her head up from where it had been resting on Chandler's chest and looked into his face, one side dark from the lack of light in the room. She wondered for a moment if she had dreamed his words about Richard. In order to clarify she asked, "What?"
"Remember, the night I was going to propose? How Richard showed up at your restaurant and said that he wanted to marry you and have children with you?" Chandler moved to sit up in the bed and Monica followed suit, reaching over to turn on the light, squinting her eyes as the brightness caused her pupils to shrink.
Monica shook her head at him, still confused. "Wha...Why are we talking about my ex-boyfriend—in bed of all places? Scratch that—why are we talking about Richard at all? Shouldn't I be complimenting you on your performance just now? Or shouldn't I be getting a backrub or maybe a second round?"
Chandler gave a small chuckle and reached behind him to grab his boxers from their perilous position on the headboard. "Babe...I'm serious. I've been thinking about this. And I especially think about it after we make love. Maybe you should've picked Richard when he came around."
Monica was floored. She stood up and moved to the foot of the bed to retrieve the shirt she was planning on sleeping in from the floor where Chandler had tossed it earlier in the evening. "Why are you thinking about Richard—especially after we make love?" She demanded from him, pulling his tee-shirt over her head and climbing back into the bed. Going for humor she quipped, "Is there something about you and Richard that I should know?"
Chandler frowned at her and smacked at her thigh lightly. "Don't even joke, Monica. Come on, I'm serious. Maybe you should've chosen Richard that night."
"Why should I have chosen Richard? I love you, Chandler. The right decision was to marry you, not him."
"God, Monica," Chandler said, staring her in the eyes, "I know that. And I love you, too. So much. But Richard...he can give you things that I can't. Damn it, Mon—he could give you a baby." Chandler looked down and began tracing patterns on the bed sheets, afraid to look Monica in the eye.
His words, again, cut into the stillness of the room, but these words lingered, shocking Monica more than the earlier ones about Richard.
A baby.
"Do you think..." Monica paused, aware that she wasn't sure what to say to Chandler. She had thought a lot about how their infertility issues affected her, but she hadn't really thought about the impact the revelation had on Chandler. "Do you think that our not being able to have a baby is your fault?"
Chandler continued to stare at the bed sheets beneath him, memorizing the floral pattern. "It is my fault, Mon. You heard what the doctor said."
"Oh, Sweetie," Monica murmured, raising up on her knees and moving in behind him, wrapping her arms around him, kissing his neck and rocking them back and forth, "this is not your fault. Nothing you did caused us to be unable to conceive. It's just a variety of factors. And, unfortunately, we had no control over them."
He nodded quickly as she continued to rock them. "But, still, Monica. You've wanted to be pregnant and have a baby—forever. Being with me has robbed you of that. If you were with Richard you'd probably already have a baby." He drew away from her ministrations and lowered his head into his hands. "How is it fair that he, as old as he is, can chose to have babies or not and that choice has been taken away from me—from us? How is it fair that every time I make love to you I feel an emptiness inside of me knowing that we can't create life together? Tell me," he implored, raising his head and looking into her eyes, "how is that fair? How is any of this fair to us?"
Monica's heart broke in that moment and a wave of sadness washed over her and she pulled Chandler to her, laying him down on the bed with her. The held one another and cried, each realizing that while they had cried separately over their loss that they had never really cried together.
After a few moments they each began to calm themselves and their tears, but they stayed wrapped in on another's arms. Monica raised a hand to wipe the tears from the corner of Chandler's eyes, "I am so incredibly glad that I married you. If I had gone with Richard I would have realized almost immediately what a mistake I had made. It is you that I love. And it is you that I want to—and am going to—have a baby with. Chandler please don't think that I blame you for our infertility. Because I don't. I never have. And I would never do that. This is a burden that has been placed on both of us—it's something that we have to face together."
Monica moved out of Chandler's arms and walked over to her purse, sitting on a chair near the closet. She rummaged around in it for a minute and then came back to the bed, sitting against the headboard. Chandler moved up, too, curious as to what she had in her hands. "And, Chandler," Monica said, "you have given me a baby. Maybe you and I didn't create him—or her—but you are the one responsible for us having this baby," she gestured to the ultrasound photo in her hand. "I've been carrying this picture around since Erica gave it to me. This, Chandler, is our baby. And maybe that's why we're infertile. So that this baby will be our baby."
Chandler took the photo from Monica and stared at it. "I am so happy that we will be the parents of this baby. But I can't help but feel that maybe you're missing out...not being able to be pregnant or give birth..." he trailed off, still studying the grainy black and white photo.
Monica let a puff of air escape her mouth, "Well, some things aren't meant to be," she gestured to the photo, "but some things are. I want to raise a baby with you, Chandler. I want to raise this baby with you."
Chandler nodded. "I want that, too," he whispered, pulling her close and kissing her softly.
She pulled away from his lips slightly, "And please don't blame yourself. This is not your fault. I don't blame you. And I certainly won't have you pushing me off on Richard."
Chandler laughed. "I wouldn't do that, not really...the big tree."
"What?" Monica shook her head, confused again.
"Nothing," he said, smiling, and placing their baby's first photo on the nightstand, "come here."
They lay down together again, Monica once again with her head on Chandler's chest. She was feeling drained from their emotional conversation but she still needed to know something. "Chandler...." She trailed off, unsure of how to ask.
He seemed, as always, to be in-tune with her and answered her unasked question, "I'll work on not blaming myself. It may take some time."
She nodded against his chest and closed her eyes, preparing herself for sleep, but opened her eyes again remembering Chandler's earlier words, words that had given her pause. "Chandler," she began, hesitantly, "do you really feel...empty...after we make love?"
His chest moved violently against her cheek as he drew a deep breath before answering. "It's just...knowing that a baby can never result, that we can't create anything through our love..." he trailed off, embarrassed and unsure of how to continue.
Monica contemplated this for a moment before sitting up and swinging her leg over his body to straddle him. Ignoring his shock, she lay down against him and whispered into his ear, "Maybe we can't create a baby together. But we do create life. When we make love I feel so much—so much more than I ever felt with anyone else. When we make love we create our life, Chandler."
He was quiet for a moment before turning his head to her then and kissing her, pulling back only once to whisper against her mouth, "Thank you" as they began to make love, and continue to create their life.