The Grey Mornings

It was just past six as Monica walked through the upstairs hallway; marking the start of the day as she usually would, by making her way from the master bedroom to the bathroom for her morning shower. She stopped before she reached her destination and leaned up against the door-frame to the spare room as she took a moment to look inside. For quite a while, stopping and inspecting this room had been a daily ritual for her, as it was the most prominent physical reminder of the baby she and Chandler had lost. As the weeks and months after her miscarriage went by, she found herself here, in the doorway, wondering what might have been, less frequently. At the start of the holiday season, she had gone almost more than three weeks without taking pause to view this room. It wasn't until her estimated due date, which was exactly one month ago today, that she added this small, quiet visit back into her daily routine.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she sighed. Her eyes scanned the room. The empty hamper she picked up at the local Target was still in the corner. The spare changing table they moved in here from the twins' room on the day of the first ultrasound was there, fully stocked and waiting to be used again. Lastly, there were a few boxes of hand-me-down baby clothes from the twins in the middle of the room that she had Chandler fetch from the attic almost as soon as they had found out she was pregnant. It was not until three months after the miscarriage that she finally asked her husband if they should move the clothes back into storage. Chandler tried to convince her that it did not make sense to move them back into the attic, since they would have to bring them back down again once they completed their second adoption and brought a new baby home. She reminded him that it could potentially take years before they got a call that someone wanted them to have their baby, but he insisted that it was good luck to leave them in here. Oddly enough, and against her better judgment, his logic made sense to her and she agreed with him that they should keep the boxes of clothes in the room.

Sometimes she regretted making that decision, especially in these quiet moments during the early morning hours, when she was alone in the hallway, standing in the doorway and looking at the taped-up boxes marked "newborn", "three months", "blankets", and "baby towels & wash cloths". It all sat there as a reminder of what she had lost. She scratched at her stomach, trying to soothe a phantom itch that only seemed to surface when she had moments like this. Moments where she still mourned the loss of her baby. Moments when she felt guilty. Moments where she felt alone.

She brushed her finger underneath her eye to stop a tear from forming and turned her thoughts to the last few months with her family. The holidays seemed to pass by like a bullet train, and now they were in those drab, cold and slow days of January; where it seemed to stay dark and grey all the time. Having an extra sweater or a fleece blanket available while sitting on the couch was tantamount to survival. Especially for Monica, who could be cold in June.

Christmas had been a whirlwind. Jack and Erica both showed a bit more enthusiasm than they had the previous year. Although, all Erica wanted to do was open present after present, even if they were not for her. Jack would sit next to her and play with the paper that she would discard over her shoulder. He sat there all morning, tugging and ripping the wrapping paper into pieces. Monica leaned over to Chandler to tell him that this may be the first year she would not have any paper left that she could salvage for a second use.

Then they were off to her parents' home on Long Island. Christmas was always a big party, with cousins, aunts, and uncles talking over each other as the younger children ran about. She was excited to see how her two little bunnies would interact with the other kids now that they were older, more mobile, and at least on the part of Erica, much more verbal. They did not disappoint. Erica had no problem bossing anyone and everyone around. Sticking her hand out so that one of her older cousins would walk her through the house on demand. Jack was more reserved, and he sat and watched the lights on the tree blink. Content to let people come to him if they wanted his attention.

Monica had baked a few pies that morning to bring along and she had to bake an extra one for Joey, who was still their houseguest, while he spent the holidays in New York. She had thought he wanted to bring the pie to his parents' house for Christmas dinner, but was proven wrong when she came home one night from work to find him sitting in a recliner eating the entire pie by himself with a large spoon. She braced herself for her mother's usual criticism over the baked goods she provided, but to Monica's surprise, there was none. She sat, sipped her coffee and indulged in an extra slice. As far as Monica was concerned, it was a Christmas miracle.

Ross, Rachel, Ben and Emma were all at the Geller's for the day. Monica noted how It was wonderful to see how much Ben seemed to have grown. Now a boy of ten, and much more mature than the practical jokester he had become over the last few years. His tricks and pranks had gotten so bad, that Monica was secretly relieved that she had not seen him that much over the last year or so while they still lived in the apartment. The last time he was there, he put saran wrap over their toilet seat and tape on the extended nozzle from the sink, which caused water to shoot all over the place when she turned on the faucet. Monica loved her nephew, but when it came to him making a mess, she had her limits on how forgiving she could be. Even for Ben.

After most of the guests had left, they had a quiet conversation with her parents, Ross, and Rachel about their decision to adopt again. Even though they had already told everyone about their plans, it still felt strange to bring people into their private little world and listen to their feedback. When she and Chandler were dealing with some major life decision, they were used to being self-sufficient as a couple. They would sometimes forget how wrapped up in each other's lives everyone was before they started to date. Monica and Chandler never needed everyone else's input when they got together; not in the way they used to when they were dating other people.

For Monica, it was one of the signs, early on in their relationship, which informed her that the two of them might actually go the distance. In those first few months together, she saw the potential for them to end up where they were now. Even during the period where they kept their affair a secret; there were hints that they were on the right track. They were a team. They were in sync. It was the two of them against the world. They never felt like they had to play any games in order to try and win each other over, or as if they were conspiring behind each other's backs so that they could ensure that they made only the most perfect impression, or that they only presented their best face, every time they saw each other. It was too late for that with them. They knew each other too well long before their first kiss. They were fated to always be their authentic selves, warts and all. They did not have some secret part of themselves that they buried deep down, hoping never to be revealed. They were open and true, not only to each other, but to themselves as well. She is certain that is why their marriage has been better than she could have ever imagined.

New Year's was quite uneventful for them, as they did not attend any party or celebration with a large crowd. She had worked that night, running a New Year's Eve dinner special. It was busy, packed with older couples taking advantage of the quiet atmosphere that her restaurant provided. She was lucky to find time to run home before the twins went to bed and have a countdown with them. Even though it was over four hours before midnight, she was excited when they set up for their makeshift New Year's celebration.

Chandler had come up with the idea to have an early New Year's countdown, and although Jack and Erica did not really understand what was going on, Monica relished in the opportunity to try and create some perfect New Year's Eve moment with her family. Of course, like everything else in life, perfection was not meant to be.

Chandler had practiced with the twins every night, trying to show them how to do a countdown with their fingers, slowly going from ten-to-one. It did not work out as planned, and instead, Erica just wiggled her fingers in the air and Jack shoved his in his mouth. Neither one really paying attention to the television where Chandler had slipped the video tape of the infamous "Dick Clark's Rocking New Year's Eve" they had recorded back when she and Ross got to dance with the "party people" into their old VCR. As the tape played, Monica covered her face as he pointed her out to their children whenever she appeared on screen. He tried in vain to get one of them to notice that their mother was on TV. She lamented the leather pants she was wearing in the video and Chandler wondered if she still had them and could wear them to bed that night, which elicited a smirk and an eye roll from her.

It was not the picturesque moment she had envisioned when she was a young woman, hoping to one day have a family of her own to celebrate the holidays with, but there they were, together, and she could not have been happier. It was only 7:30pm when they watched the ball drop on the video, pretending it said 2006 for Jack and Erica's benefit. They cheered, clapped, and used noisemakers as they tried to get their children excited. It wasn't perfect, but it was all hers and hers alone. No one else would ever know what this particular family felt like in moments like this except for her. It was a gift she would never take for granted.

Once the twins were asleep, she had to go back to the restaurant and help with the late-night crowd. It was yet another time where she felt grateful to work so close to home, that she could step out for an hour and not miss the big, important moments of her life. She shuddered a bit at the thought of what her home life would be like if she still worked at Javu and commuted to the city every day. All the precious moments she would have missed as she sat in traffic.

She promised Chandler she would be back in time to celebrate the real thing with him and share a kiss at midnight, but she ended up getting held up at the restaurant. She called him to make sure they were at least on the phone when the clock struck twelve, but it was not the same thing. Not for her, and she knew it was definitely not the same for him, who always seemed to think every year needed to start with a kiss for luck.

When she finally got back home, he was already in bed, reading a book and looking like the loneliest man in the world. Monica bit her lip, hatched a plan, and told him to meet her in the living room in fifteen minutes.

She sneaked into her closet and pulled out the leather pants and tank top she wore on the video. She got dressed in the bathroom and pulled her hair back into a ponytail to try and mimic how she looked that night as she danced around the dimly lit studio. Once she was satisfied, she went downstairs and set up the tape so it was ready to play down from one minute to midnight. She lit a few candles, set out champagne, and lowered the lights as she waited for Chandler to arrive.

Upon seeing her there, his breath hitched and his jaw fell to the floor. He tugged at the collar of his pajama shirt, pretending that the temperature in room suddenly became unbearably hot. She clicked play on the remote and shimmied around the room, enticing him to join her as they shared a kiss and an embrace to the same exact countdown they had done so to six years earlier. She apologized for missing the real New Year's Eve and Chandler told her that this one was better. When she asked him how, he told her it was because of the leather pants. She laughed and slapped him playfully, already feeling the tension and guilt of having to work all night, leaving him alone for the holiday, slowly disappear.

That was her husband. Seemingly always able to say the right thing and make her smile in those quiet moments when it was just the two of them and she was feeling self-conscious about herself as a mother or a wife.

She heard the bedroom door open behind her and could feel Chandler's presence in the hallway as he padded his way over to her. She decided not to turn around to greet him and hoped that he would take the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind so she could lean back into him. As if he were reading her mind, he did just that. She turned her head slightly and he placed a small kiss almost on the bridge of her nose as she hummed in approval.

"Morning. What are you doing?"

"Just looking. I keep thinking we should do something about these boxes; we don't want look to presumptuous when we have the home visit tomorrow."

"I think they'll like that we were took initiative and are confident in ourselves."

"You just don't want to carry all of this stuff back into the attic."

"Well, it's dark and creepy up there."

Monica chuckled and pressed the back of her head into his chest. "Can I ask you a question?"

Chandler took the opportunity to place another soft kiss along her hairline. "Sure."

"Do you still think about the baby? I know it's been six months, but I can't help it. When I look at this room sometimes, I think about all the nights we sat up talking about everything we needed to get done before she was born and I get sad."

"She?"

"I go back-and-forth sometimes on what I think we were going to have, and right now it feels like a she to me."

"Okay."

"So, do you?"

"Of course, I do."

Monica let loose an almost cathartic sigh as not only his words, but the vibrations in his chest from speaking seemed to already soothe her troubled mind. "Do you think we will always be sad about it?"

"Yeah. I do. Those first few weeks, after you got home from the hospital, they were brutal. I was worried that, maybe, we would never get over it and go back to normal. That we would never be 'us' again. Then, I think I realized, that it is okay that we will never get over it. You know? Like, this is our new normal, and this is the new us." He paused and placed a kiss on the top of her head as he gathered his thoughts. "We will always be sad when we think about our baby, but as time passes, those moments will get split up by moments of happiness. Like Christmas morning with Jack and Erica. Hopefully, those happy times happen more often and these feelings of sorrow happen less and less. But, it will always be there. I think the next step for us will be not feeling guilty for not always being sad."

Monica smiled, it was an odd sensation to get comfort from hearing her husband say that she will always mourn the loss of her unborn child, but knowing that he felt the same way made her feel less alone. Again, as always, it was a moment and a feeling that could only be shared by the two of them. It was theirs, and theirs alone.

Chandler cleared his throat and she felt his mood change simply from the way he was holding her. "So, she? Huh?"

"Yeah."

"Did you have a name picked out?"

"Well…"

"What was it?"

"I started thinking that she was going to be an Amanda, but then I put that together with Bing and it sounded more like 'A Man to Bang' and not Amanda Bing. So, then I thought, maybe Ella. I know it sounds like Emma, but I don't know, it just started to fit for me."

"Ella Bing?"

Monica smiled and nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, so how about, whenever we're alone, and we want to talk about it, we call her Ella. It sounds like a jazz singer from the forties, but she will be our little jazz singer."

"What if I was wrong and it was a boy?"

"Well, looking at my gene pool, even if it was a boy, he might have become an Ella."

Monica slapped one of his arms that was still tightly holding her waist and chuckled. "Your father would have been so proud."

Chandler started to place small kisses down her neck, and she lifted her head to allow him more access. "What are you doing? We don't have time for this."

"Why not?"

"We have an entire house to clean before the home visit from the agency tomorrow."

"But I already cleaned the kitchen."

Monica raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Really?"

"That's right. Your husband cleaned the kitchen last night." Chandler continued his slow kisses along her neck and lowered his voice a few octaves. "Oh yeah, I went deep and didn't miss a spot. I rubbed that sweet, antibacterial Lysol all over your counters. And you know I pulled the stove and fridge out to clean behind them."

Monica spun around and started to respond with kisses of her own along his shoulder. "Really?"

"Those place mats and dish towels? I had them on spin cycle just like you want it. They spun for thirty-five minutes with other assorted laundry because I know you freaky like that. Then I finished it off with a microfiber cloth and a steam mop on the wood floor."

Monica started to breath heavy and pulled him to her so they could share a slow, lingering kiss on his lips. As she pulled back, she smiled seductively at him and bobbed her head in the direction of their bedroom. "That is so hot. Did you do the windows?"

"No, but that's only because I like to leave you wanting more."

Monica laughed as she sighed. This was also her husband. He was ridiculous and he made her laugh and he was hers and hers alone. She smiled as she turned towards the bedroom and dragged him behind her. "I guess I have a few extra minutes, but after this, we go downstairs and clean those windows."