My eyes open as the bed bounces next to me and I fly into a sitting position, looking around rapidly, alarmed.

"Whoa! Monica! It's just me!"

My eyes focus on Chandler and I feel panic rise up in my throat. "What's wrong? Why are you home so early? Did something happen?"

He puts his hand on my shoulder, confused. "Home early? Monica, it's after five—this is the same time I get home every Wednesday."

I blink at him a few times, his words not completely sinking it. "It's after five?"

"Yeah," he tells me, looking out the window and I follow his gaze; it's already dark out.

I feel my heartbeat start to return to normal. "It's after five?" I ask again.

He chuckles and leans in to kiss me. "Good nap?"

"I guess—oh, my God! Jack and Erica! They—"

Chandler cuts me off, trying to keep me calm. "Are fine. I already checked on them."

"They're okay?"

"Yeah. Mon—are you okay?"

"I think so. I'm just out of it, I guess." I can't get my brain to focus—I think I'm still trying to process actually being awake.

"How long were you asleep?"

I pause, trying to remember even lying down. "I came in here after I put them down for their nap, so…almost four hours?"

His eyes grow wide, filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I shrug, rubbing my eyes. "I didn't realize I was that tired. I don't remember even sitting down. Are you sure they're all right?"

"Sure I'm sure; they're both entertaining themselves in their cribs."

I feel very unsettled and disoriented.

"Monica, what's up?"

I shake my head. "Maybe it's that bug I got from the twins."

"Yeah, that was weeks ago."

"Maybe it's a different bug. I'm sure they're exposed to all sorts of germs at daycare, so maybe they're bringing them home. I don't know—maybe I'm just tired."

"Maybe," he says slowly, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. "Hey, wasn't it just last weekend you stayed home from work because you were violently ill?"

"I wasn't violently ill," I tell him. "I was just sick. I couldn't be at work if I was throwing up everywhere; it's kind of a biohazard." He wrinkles his nose and I bite the inside of my cheek—that wasn't the only day I was sick, but it was the only day I stayed home because it. I just didn't think I needed to get him worried over a stomach bug.

Thinking that's the end of it, I go to stand up when he slides next to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Mon, when was your last period?"

I give him a look. "I just had it this we…" My voice trails off as I realize that I haven't had it this week. Really, I should just be finishing up right about now. "Well, I'm supposed to have it this week."

"Uh-huh," he says, staring at me. "So, the last one was…"

I sigh, exasperated. "What are you getting at, Chandler?"

"Just…when was it?"

I open my mouth to tell him it was in November, but my mouth closes again in a moment when I realize that I don't remember it happening in then. In all fairness, though, both of my babies were sick, I was sick, Chandler was sick, Thanksgiving was happening, all of our friends and family were here, there was a lot going on. It probably happened then.

Still, I don't actually remember it.

Well, then it was probably in October. No, it was definitely October.

I think.

I do remember it happening in September, though I don't know why that one stands out.

"Monica?"

I look up at him and bite my lip.

"The last one I remember is September," he tells me.

"What's your point?"

He looks at me incredulously. "My point? My point?" A smile starts to spread across his face. "Monica, you're pr—"

I stand up abruptly, my brain finally connecting the dots. "No, I'm not! Don't say it—don't even think it." With that, I walk out of our room and go to the nursery, pausing just inside the door to take a couple of deep breaths. "Nope," I whisper, heading over to Jack. "Hi, sweetheart." He looks up at me and smiles, and I reach out and stroke his head. "Mommy's sorry she left you in here for so long." As I'm taking him out of his crib, Chandler appears in the door, looking confused.

"What was that?"

I ignore him and bring Jack over to the changing table to put him in a new diaper. Chandler slowly walks over to Erica and lifts her out of her crib, kissing her belly before placing her on the table next to Jack. Side by side we put the two of them in new diapers.

"Mon—"

"I mean it, Chandler. Don't say it." I pick up Jack and leave the room, heading downstairs. I can hear Chandler following me. I put Jack in his high chair and grab a couple of jars of baby food out of the cabinet. When I turn around, Chandler is standing in front of me, Erica still in his arms.

"Monica, stop."

"I can't, Chandler. Okay?"

"But you're—"

"No, I'm not."

"Why are you being this way?"

"Because I can't get…you know."

"Pregnant?"

That's the first time the word's been said out loud; I feel panic well up in me, and I start shaking my head. "I can't…"

He puts Erica in her high chair and turns back to me. "Actually, Dr. Connelly never said you couldn't get pregnant, just that it'd be a long shot."

I feel tears well up in my eyes, and I try to fight them back. "I can't do this, Chandler."

He rests his hands gently on my waist, squeezing softly. "Do what? Have another baby?"

"No—I can't let myself get excited about it, or even let myself think about it, only to have it all just be a fantasy. I can't."

"Honey…who says it's a fantasy?"

"Because that's all it's ever been, hasn't it? We tried—actively tried—for over a year. Nothing. Always nothing. So just because, what? I can't actually remember having a period last month I'm…" I still can't bring myself to say it. Saying it will make it real, and if it's real, I'll start to hope, and I can't handle having those few moments where I let myself believe it could be happening only to have it taken away from me.

I feel tears leak out of my eyes and Chandler's arms wrap around me. I know he's confused by my reaction, but I'm just as confused by his. How can he so readily, so easily, think it after all the heartbreak we've been through with this?

"We could have done it, you know," he whispers. "We could have made a baby."

I shake my head and pull away, swiping at my eyes as I drag one of the kitchen chairs in front of the twins. "We didn't," I say firmly, my hands shaking as I try to open a jar of baby food. "Look; I've mostly come to terms with the fact that we'll never be able to…conceive. We have two amazing children; we've started talking about adopting more. There's no sense in getting all excited over a pipe dream."

He pulls over a chair and sits down next me, taking the jar out of my shaking hands, opening it for me. "Okay, just think about what I'm saying. It's been three months since either of us can remember your period, right? So that would mean it's been about two and a half months. Since then, you've been completely exhausted—"

I cut him off. "I was sick! I had the flu or whatever it was the twins had. It doesn't mean anything."

He carries on, ignoring me. "You're still exhausted, to the point where you took a four hour nap today. I'm guessing that whatever 'bug' you had this past weekend was more like morning sickness—"

"Don't do this, Chandler. I can't watch your heartbreak over this—I can't." I turn to face the twins, carefully taking little spoonfuls of food and bringing it to their lips. I feel his hand rest gently on the back of my head.

"I just feel like this is it…that we made a baby."

"And how many times did we get that feeling before? How many times were we sure that it took? Every time, Chandler. Every single damn time, and I can't do this again." Even so, my mind is racing, putting together all the things he mentioned, and even some that he hasn't. Maybe I haven't actually been sick every time, but there have been more mornings than I've even thought about lately when I've woken up nauseated; I just chalked up to lack of sleep.

And, I guess my breasts have been excessively sensitive, but that doesn't mean anything. Women's bodies can be very fluid, and sometimes things that normally react one way will react differently.

I suppose I've also been eating a lot more lately, even though I'm fairly certain I've lost weight.

But none of that means anything.

Except, when you put it all together, it kind of does.

I feel tears fill my eyes as a tiny seed of hope burrows into my chest. I do my best to squash it.

"I can't let myself think this is real," I whisper, trying my best to feed Jack and Erica who, one way or another, look like they're picking up on Mommy's mood.

"Well, we can find out."

"Oh, you mean take another pregnancy test? Sit here and wait for five minutes, biting our nails, jumping out of our skin, just to have it come back negative? Chandler, there are so many other reasons why all of these things are happening. Don't get your hopes up."

He sighs and stands up, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He flips it open and I see him scrolling through phone numbers.

"What are you doing?"

"Calling Dr. Connelly," he says matter-of-factly and I just shake my head.

"You're wasting your time."

"Jesus, Monica, stop being so stubborn about this."

"I'm not being stubborn—I'm realistic. This way, my heart can't feel like it's being torn out of my chest when we realize that it's not true." My heart hurts just thinking about it, new tears filling my eyes even as I realize this is the first time in my entire life that all of the signs point to "pregnant." "You're just being way too optimistic about this. I can't believe that after everything we've been through, you're so willing to think this is a possibility."

"I know you, Monica. I know everything about you. Maybe you're too close to see it, but now that I've connected all the dots, there's not a doubt in my mind that you're pregnant."

"I told you not to say it. If you say it, it makes it real, and then I start to get my hopes up and I told you that I cannot handle that."

He presses "send" on his phone, staring at me. A few moments later, he says, "Hi, Angie, it's Chandler Bing. Can I talk to Dr. Connelly please? It's extremely urgent…Thanks." He keeps his eyes focused on me and finally I look away, concentrating on our children.

"Hey, Doc, it's…yeah…Yeah, I think so….Well, I think Monica's pregnant….No, she's in denial…uh-huh…uh-huh…Okay…Let me check." He moves the phone away from his mouth for a second. "Hey, Mon—he said he can see us tomorrow morning at seven."

"We don't need to go to the doctor," I say through gritted teeth.

Once again, he ignores me. "Yeah, we'll be there…I will…Okay…Okay, thanks…Yeah, see you then." He closes his phone, putting it on the table. "He has early morning spots for emergencies so he's going to see us tomorrow. He said that I should go and buy some pregnancy tests for you to take now, and for you to take another in the morning. He said that even if you're not—which you are—that there's still something causing these symptoms and he wants to check anyway. Can you live with that?"

I sniffle a couple of times before I start sobbing. "I'm sorry. I'm just scared. Please don't be upset with me."

He wraps his arms around me and I cry into his shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay. It's scary to hope. But I really do think this is it for us. I'm gonna run down to the store and buy as many different tests as I can find, okay? And I'm gonna pick up some dinner for us, too, because I'm pretty sure neither of us are in any state of mind right now to cook."

I nod, feeling my tears subside a little. "Okay," I whisper.

"Anything in particular you want?"

I shrug. "Chinese? Get whatever—one way or another, it's probably not really going to matter."

He takes my face in his hands, and I can see the hope in his eyes. "I love you."

I nod, feeling my breath hitch. "I love you, too."

He gives me a quick kiss before standing up. "Think happy thoughts." He goes to the fridge and brings me a bottle of water. "Hydrate. I'm not kidding when I say I'm going to get a bunch of these things." He bends over and kisses first Jack then Erica, telling them each that he loves them before I see him pulling out his phone to call the Chinese food place.

"Be careful," I call after him; the last thing I want is for him to be distracted by this while driving. I hear the door shut behind him and I turn back to the twins, who are staring at me with what I swear are worried looks.

Though I'm probably projecting.

"Hi Loves. Mommy's sorry about today." I bring a spoonful of food to Jack's mouth; most of it manages to stay in. "Things are just a little crazy, you know?" I spoon food into Erica's mouth; moments later, she lets it drool down her chin. "Daddy thinks Mommy is going to have a baby," I tell them, wiping off my daughter's chin with her bib. Jack bangs on his tray and I give him another mouthful. "I know. It's crazy. It can't happen, right?" Erica spits out most of her next mouthful of food and giggles. "We have enough with the two of you right now, don't we? Mommy's not an octopus; she can't hold three of you at once." I open up the next jar of food, not at all surprised that they're this hungry. "What do you think, guys? You want a little brother or sister?" Jack purses his lips and blows, tiny spit bubbles flying everywhere. "Huh—is that a no?" I see Erica's hand reach for the empty jar and I snatch it away quickly, earning me an offended noise in the process. "Don't worry, baby girl—if Mommy has a baby, there will still be food for you."

I sigh and lean back a little, trying to wrap my mind around everything, trying so hard not to hope, and failing miserably in the process; the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. I don't want it to, but it all adds up.

"Don't think I don't want it to be true," I tell them, trying to keep up with their appetites. "Mommy and Daddy want more of you little guys. We really do. But the stork is going to have to bring them to us, just like you two. And that's okay."

I keep trying and trying to convince myself that Chandler's wrong, that all the signs are wrong, that it's stupid to dream.

Jack finally turns his head away from the spoon, full. Erica's mouth opens for more. "Well, of course you're still hungry; you keep spitting out what I put in." I finish off the jar with her, though I'll have to get a bottle ready for her anyway. Jack has been very enthusiastic about solid food while Erica's only lukewarm about it; she still seems to prefer a bottle, but that's supposed to be okay. Even though they're twins, they not likely to take all the same developmental steps at the same time.

I wipe their mouths then lift Jack out of his chair, putting him on the ground at my feet, blocking his path with my foot as I grab Erica. I squat to the ground and grab my son who, fortunately, comes with me willingly. I bring them out to the living room and plop them in their playpen while I go heat up a bottle, which is something I can fortunately do in my sleep by this point because I have zero focus on menial tasks at the moment.

I realize my hand is resting on my stomach and I move it away abruptly, irritated with myself. "Stop it, Monica," I whisper, taking the bottle out of the microwave and go back to the living room. I start to grab Erica, but I hate to leave Jack in the playpen on his own. I grab one of the carriers out of the hall closet and buckle him in; ordinarily, I'd let him play on the floor and test his little motor skills, but I'm pretty sure I'm not in the right frame of mind right now to be able to split my focus that way. I pull Erica into my arms and sit on the floor next to Jack, her hands reaching for the bottle as I aim toward her mouth. I balance both her and her bottle in one arm and put my other hand on Jack's carrier, rocking him back and forth. I should be talking to them right now, trying to engage them, but I'm just too distracted.

I rest my hand on Jack's tummy and sigh. "We could do this, right, guys? We could be a family of five. Mommy could be…pregnant, right?" That's the first time I've said that out loud all night. It sounds foreign, unfamiliar; it's a word I've stopped associating with myself, mostly out of self-preservation. I kiss Erica's forehead, wrinkled in concentration. Both of my kids take their food seriously.

I'm startled when I hear the key in the door, surprised that Chandler's home already. "That was fast."

"I was motivated. How are you doing?"

I shrug, and Erica makes a little noise as she shifts with me. "Okay, I think. Weirded out. Scared."

He nods, putting his bags on the coffee table before hanging up his jacket. "I'll take over baby-duty. You go take the tests. Jack need a bottle?"

"He'll probably want one," I answer, handing the baby off to Chandler. I move to stand up and my vision swims for a second, so I grab Chandler's shoulder. He looks at me with his eyebrow raised. "Head rush. It's nothing." Even as I say it, I can't help but wonder if that's actually true.

I grab the grocery bag off the table, my mouth dropping open when I look inside. "How many did you get?"

"Eight," he answers, taking my spot on the floor. "Six for tonight, two for the morning."

"Do you really think I can generate enough pee for six pregnancy tests?"

"I believe in you."

I make a face at him, which he ignores, and take the bag with me into the downstairs bathroom. I pull out box after box, each with a different name, all with the same question. I open all but two, lining them up on the counter, each test on its box, the order of it helping ease my mind. I take a deep breath and take the first test, the rest following quickly behind it, hoping I've been able to do it successfully; it's hard to pee on a stick when your hands won't stop shaking, but considering I haven't set foot inside a bathroom since before I put the twins down for their nap, hydrating further was unnecessary.

I refuse to look at the tests as I wash my hands; sometimes the results show up quickly and that freaks me out more than anything.

I grab a timer out of the kitchen, setting it for five minutes as I go back to the living room. Most of the tests probably won't need the full five minutes, but for simplicity's sake I go with it. Chandler's already giving Jack a bottle; Erica's on the floor next to him, scooting back and forth on her knees as she tries to figure out how to crawl.

"Once she's mobile, it's all over," I tell him, sitting on the floor next to him.

"I'm aware. Hell on wheels is going to be her new name."

"We'll have to get more baby gates. Maybe see if we can find some way to pad the edges of things so they don't crack their little heads open."

He nods in agreement, shifting Jack a little in his arms, but doesn't say anything.

"Erica." I say to my daughter, and she pauses her rocking for a moment, not sure where the voice is coming from. "Erica." Her arms collapse, her little butt still in the air, and she presses the side of her face to the rug, her eyes lighting up when she sees me, the beginnings of two tiny little bottom teeth peeking out as she grins . I can't help but smile back at her; every time they smile just because they see me, my heart feels like it's going to explode. "Hi."

She pushes herself back up on her hands, and I move a teething ring a few feet away from her, hoping she'll start to get the hang of crawling.

"How long has it been?" Chandler asks suddenly.

I look at the timer. "Two minutes."

"How long did you set it for?"

"Five."

He groans, his head falling back for a moment. "Longest five minutes of our lives."

I feel nausea curling in the pit of my stomach, though right now I'm positive it's from nerves.

My foot starts to jiggle, my entire leg bouncing from anxiety. I hear Chandler taking deep, controlled breaths next to me. Erica's still rocking back and forth on the floor, trying to gain momentum. Jack turns his face from the bottle, refusing when Chandler tires again.

"Hungry?" he finally asks me.

I shake my head. "Not even a little bit."

"How long has it been now?"

"Two and a half minutes."

"You're kidding."

"Now it's two thirty-five."

"Can you check them early?"

"Not if you want to make sure we get the correct results."

We fall silent again, conversation nearly impossible. I've always seen this sort of thing in movies and TV, where time passes impossibly slowly as the couple waits for the test results, and I always thought it was a load of crap; I've taken these tests before, and I was always able to find some way to occupy my time while I waited. Of course, the last time I took a test was before we found out about our conception issues; things didn't seem nearly as…heavy back then.

I stare at the timer, willing the seconds to pass faster. I need this to be over; I need to know that Chandler was wrong about this so we can move on and figure out what's going on with me.

I bury my face in my hands and make a frustrated noise. I hear Chandler stand up and head the kitchen, coming back moments later with plates, making several more trips to get what we'll need to eat dinner, Jack still in one arm. I peek between my fingers and see Erica still in the same spot, her face a mixture of excitement and frustration.

I can relate.

The timer dings and my heart drops into my stomach.

I look up at Chandler; I can't read the expression on his face.

My heart starts to jackhammer.

He puts Jack in the playpen then puts Erica with him. He holds out his hands to me, helping me stand. Up close, I can see his chest rising and falling rapidly.

I suddenly feel like I can't move.

He pulls me into his arms, and I can hear his heart pounding beneath his shirt. "Whatever happens, Monica, it's gonna be okay," he whispers. "We're gonna be okay."

I nod and swallow heavily, slowly disentangling myself from his arms. I walk to the bathroom and pause when I get to the door, my hand frozen on the knob for several long moments, that stupid little kernel of hope suddenly getting bigger.

Finally, I push the door open.

I keep my distance from the tests as the door falls shut behind me, afraid to look. I take a few steps forward and close my eyes, breathing deeply.

I open my eyes and look at the tests.

A moment later, a sob bubbles out of me. One arm wraps around my waist, the other hand clamping against my mouth as the tears come even harder, my knees suddenly weak.

A few seconds later, I hear Chandler on the other side of the door. "Monica?" He sounds panicked. "Monica, what is it?"

I open the door to face him, concern etched all over his features. I open my mouth, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. I stagger into his arms, shaking my head, and I feel him sag against me.

"Oh, honey…oh, honey, I…" his voice trails off, and I look up at him. His eyes are sad, his mouth downturned.

"They're all positive," I whisper.

He blinks at me. "What?"

"They're all positive. All of them."

"Are you serious?"

I smile even as I cry harder. "I'm pregnant." The word still feels foreign, but now it sounds beautiful, too.

Chandler laughs happily. "Oh, my God. You're pregnant?"

"I'm pregnant." I say it again because I just can't believe it. My knees finally give out and we slowly collapse to the floor, wrapped in each other's arms.

"We're going to have a baby," I tell him, the smile splitting my face.

"We're having a baby," he repeats. He pulls back to look at me, grinning from ear to ear, tears in his eyes. "We're having a baby."

Another sob escapes me as I nod, and I bury my face in his neck.

We're having a baby.