"I think," I say as I stand Erica on my legs, making her wiggle back and forth a little, "that our first Christmas morning as parents has been a rousing success. What do you think?" I look over at Chandler, who has Jack sitting on his lap, shoving wrapping paper into his mouth. "Please take that out of his mouth."

"What? He's happy. Isn't that why we used excess amounts of wrapping paper? So the kids could play with it?"

"Play with it, yes. Eat it, no." I reach over and gently remove the paper from Jack's tiny fist, earning myself a disgruntled look and a handful of drool in the process. "It's possible that he has a toy somewhere that he can chew on, isn't it?"

Together, we survey the living room; overall, I'm impressed that we managed to hold back on the gift giving as much as we did. As tempting as it was to go completely overboard with gifts for our babies, Chandler and I managed to keep it fairly low-key, mostly because at eight months old, they don't particularly care. They like the colors, they like the shiny stuff, but other than that, it doesn't really matter to them. Besides, between the gifts that Chandler's mom brought last week when she visited, what I'm sure Chandler's dad will bring when he comes to visit after the New Year, and the gifts my parents told me they're bringing today, not to mention whatever swag Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, Mike, and Joey bought, they won't be hurting for presents.

Chandler and I, sappily enough, sort of felt like we got the best gift possible already, so our gift exchange was minimal. It was much more fun helping the twins open their presents, anyway.

Chandler gently places Jack on the floor. "All right, buddy. See if you can find something appropriate to chew on," he tells him, and Jack crawls off to the pile of gifts under the tree. I shake my head in wonder. Literally two days ago, when we put Jack on the floor to encourage him to crawl, he'd just look at us like we were stupid, almost as if he couldn't believe we expected him to get around on his own. It didn't seem to interest him at all. Then, out of nowhere, we saw him get onto his knees and scoot across the floor. I'm not even a little ashamed that I cried. We swore that Erica would be the first one mobile, but her brother beat her to it. We can see how much it's pissing Erica off, too. For whatever reason, she just can't seem to get the forward motion down.

My kids are already ridiculously competitive, and I don't know if I can even blame myself for it. I think it might be a twin thing.

I put Erica on the floor at my feet and she immediately hauls herself to her knees, rocking back and forth, eager to catch up to her brother. I can see the determination on her face and I hold my breath, keeping my fingers crossed for my little girl.

A minute later, her face scrunches up, big tears rolling down her cheeks as she starts to cry, and I feel my heart break for her. Chandler scoops her off the ground and stands up, pulling her against his chest. "It's okay, sweetie. It's okay. You'll get there." He sways back and forth as he tries to soothe her, and I look over at our son, who's managed to grab a big, squishy block and is attempting to shove the entire thing into his mouth. It's not that I didn't believe people when they said their kids put everything in their mouths, I think I just didn't realize how much "everything" encompasses. What they should really say is that if it's not attached to the ground, they'll attempt to chew on it, and even then, if they can get their little lips around it, they don't care if it is attached to the ground.

"Hey, Mon." I look up; Chandler's still trying to console Erica, whose tears won't subside. "I think she needs Mommy." My heart clenches a little at that. The thought that sometimes I'm the only person in the world that will help my kids feel better makes me feel like more of a mother than anything else has.

I stand, taking her into my arms and stroking her soft hair, her head coming to rest on my shoulder as she sniffles. "You're okay," I whisper to her, rocking back and forth, her tears subsiding. "You don't have to crawl yet. Maybe you won't have to crawl ever. Maybe you'll just go right to walking."

"Oh, God, don't say that," I hear Chandler mumble. "Don't even put it out there. She'll start getting ideas."

I press my lips to the back of her head and shrug. "Some babies don't ever really crawl, you know. Some just pull themselves up and start walking."

"That doesn't mean I have to be cool with the idea of my eight month old daughter being able to walk." He looks over at Jack, who's still happily slobbering over his block. "It's bad enough that my eight month old son is crawling. They shouldn't be allowed to grow up. They should just be babies forever."

I sigh against Erica's head and nod. I don't ever want them to grow up. "Well, at least we have another one on the way; we'll be able to get a few more months of baby time before we have a house full of toddlers."

Chandler's hand slides across my stomach at the mention of our unborn child and I feel myself grin in response. It's only been a couple of weeks since we got the news, and the whole thing still feels like a dream most days, but it's been pretty incredible.

Except for the random bouts of nausea and vomiting; I could do without those. Especially when I'm at work. I don't know if my symptoms are getting stronger or if it's all psychosomatic, but food smells are really getting to me more than they were a few weeks ago.

"Hey, don't forget we need to take this week's picture."

"Ah, yes; The Chronicles of a Baby Bump." True to his word, Chandler's been taking pictures of my slowly growing stomach ever since we found out. So far, I haven't been able to see a difference, but I'm sure it won't be long before it changes daily. But he's been terribly excited about the whole thing; taking pictures from the front and the side; he's talked me into actually writing the number of weeks on my stomach, too, just for posterity's sake. He even managed to take one the day we found out—and I think this one is his pride and joy—with him kneeling down next to me, my shirt pulled up, and he's making his excited face with thumbs up. And really, that whole moment was so "Chandler" that I couldn't deny him. It actually came out pretty cute, too. But I think he was feeling especially virile that day—I guess finding out you've knocked up your wife tends to bring out the caveman in some guys.

Honestly, though, I think the whole idea is incredibly sweet, and I love that we'll have this whole journey documented. The fact that he's having such a good time with it and that he's so happy is still beyond amazing to me.

"Anything particular you have in mind for this week's photo shoot?" I ask, stroking Erica's back, listening to her make contented little baby noises.

"I don't suppose you'd let me put a white beard and red stocking cap on your belly, would you?" I think my silence is answer enough. "Then no, no ideas."

I shake my head at him and kneel on the floor, standing Erica on the floor next to me. "Okay, sweetie," I tell her, keeping my hands on her sides. "You want to try walking?" She bounces up and down a few times, not really getting the concept. Jack crawls across the floor and plops down in front of his sister. He points up at her and declares, "Dee!"

Erica's legs collapse, so I plop her on the floor as she answers, "Bah bah bah bah bah."

"Sounds like an important conversation they're having," Chandler notes. "Think they need some privacy?"

"Possibly. It sounds like the fate of our nation is at stake." I stand up and my ears start to ring, my vision turning dark and fuzzy for a few seconds, and I feel Chandler reach out to grab me. I blink rapidly for a few moments, trying to get my bearings, as I feel him guide me onto the couch.

"You all right?" I hear him ask me, trying his best not to sound like he's panicking.

"Yeah," I answer, lowering my head between my knees for a few moments. These dizzy spells have been interesting. I've been getting them more frequently than the average head rush, but not often enough to actually be a cause for concern; they usually pass within moments and are more of a surprise than anything else.

A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead and I feel my stomach churning. I breathe in deeply through my nose, hoping it'll pass.

"Mon?"

I bolt to the bathroom as fast I can, barely making it before I get the joyful experience of revisiting my breakfast.

The only upside I've found to morning sickness is that once I've thrown up, I usually feel fine. Still, it's a small price to pay if I get to be pregnant in exchange.

I flush the toilet and cautiously lean back. My stomach stays settled, so I stand up slowly, waiting to see if I get a sneak attack, but all is well. I grab a toothbrush and toothpaste and start scrubbing my mouth—since this whole nausea thing kicked in, I've taken to leaving an arsenal of oral hygiene supplies at every sink in the house. The downside—sometimes it's the flavor of the toothpaste or mouthwash that sets me off.

I open the door and see Chandler sitting on the floor with the twins a little too casually, one eye trained on me. "I'm fine," I reassure him, lowering myself to the couch once more.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. I feel much better now." I lean back, resting one hand on my stomach, the other reaching out to stroke his hair. "Your child is doing very weird things to me."

He grins at me then pulls himself onto his knees. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my belly. My eyes water a little, and I chalk it up to hormones. "I wish I could tell you that I'm sorry about it, but…"

I put my hands on his cheeks and he lifts himself up, pressing his lips to mine.

"You're all nice and minty," he whispers.

"Much better than the alternative," I assure him, kissing him again.

He wraps his arms around my waist, his ear pressed against my chest. "Love you," he tells me.

"I love you, too." I see Jack crawl across the floor to the Christmas tree; a few seconds later, I see Erica crawl after him. "Erica! Oh, my God, Erica!"

Chandler jumps away from me on high alert. "What? Is she okay?"

Tears are already streaming down my face. "She's crawling!" I point over to the tree. He whips his head around just as she plops to the ground, poking at a piece of wrapping paper.

"Erica, did you just crawl?" Chandler asks her, his voice excited even though he missed the action. She picks up a piece of wrapping paper in each hand, waving her fists up and down, screeching with joy. Jack makes a face at her volume, throwing a squishy toy car at the ground.

"Dah!" he yells, and I'm pretty sure that's his way of telling his sister to shut up.

"Erica, come see Daddy," Chandler says. She looks up at him, considering. "Come here, Erica." She grins at him and is on her knees again, zooming toward us. "That's my girl!"

I'm practically bouncing up and down on the couch, my smile hurting my cheeks. "You did it," I say as she reaches her father. "Oh, my sweet girl, you finally did it."

Not to be left out, Jack starts to crawl to us, too, but stops halfway, distracted by a new teething ring. "Jack," I say to him, and he looks up at me for a moment then makes a face as he starts to gnaw on his latest treasure.

"I think he just blew you off," Chandler tells me, holding out a finger for Erica to grab onto. She shoves it into her mouth. I can tell he's wiggling his finger around a bit, checking her gums. "It feels like she has one coming in up top."

"Oh, good. Because I love it when she's cranky."

"Well, teething hurts, right, Erica? Tell Mommy how much it hurts." He winces as she bites down on his finger—no one ever really prepared us for just how strong a baby's jaw can be, either. "Or you can tell Daddy. That's fine, too."

I look over at Jack and see that he's rolled onto his back, practically folded in half as he inspects his feet and I laugh. "What a little monkey." I carefully slide off the couch and crawl over to my son. "You're silly," I tell him, leaning down to kiss his forehead and tickling his sides, making him laugh. "Oh, to still be that flexible," I say to Chandler.

"You do all right," he assures me. "We've gotten you into some pretty interesting positions over the years. I'm certainly not complaining."

"Not in front of the kids, huh?" I wink at him to let him know I'm teasing.

"This is the best Christmas ever," Chandler exclaims suddenly.

"It's so much better when you have children," I agree. "And next year, we'll have three of them!"

"Speaking of…the first trimester's over, right?"

"Just about, I think. Why?"

"Well, when did you want to start telling people about Baby X?"

"'Baby X'?"

"Yeah. The baby of mystery and intrigue."

I shake my head at him. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"It's a gift. But back to my original question…"

I can never really seem to avoid questions with Chandler anymore; there was a point in our past where he would have let it slide if I wanted to avoid answering a question. Now, though, he knows that I'll eventually give in and answer if he pesters me long enough. "I don't really know. I mean, I know that after twelve weeks the whole thing is a lot safer but…I just don't know if I'm ready to let everyone know."

"I understand. But, Monica, keep in mind that you're not a very big person. It's not going to be very long before people will be able to tell just by looking at you."

I sigh, my hand automatically going to my still mostly-flat stomach. "We have that appointment with the new doctor in a couple of days; let's just get past that and we'll talk."

"I don't want to pressure you, honey. If you're not ready to tell people, we'll wait until you're comfortable with it. I just can't wait to add the sonogram picture to the collection on my desk."

"You're so sappy." I duck my face down to Jack so Chandler can't see that this, too, has made me weepy. These hormones truly are a bitch.

There's a knock at the door suddenly, and I look up at Chandler, confused. "What time is it?"

Just as confused, he looks at his watch. "Almost nine thirty."

I stand up, relieved to feel to no dizziness this time, and bring Jack with me. Cautiously, I open the door a crack and see my parents smiling back at me.

"Mom? Dad?"

"We're early, we know," my mother answers as I open the door to let them in. "I'm sorry; we just couldn't wait any longer." She hugs me before planting a kiss on Jack's head, who grins at her, his two tiny bottom teeth poking out. She holds her hands out and Jack leans toward her slightly, his way of permitting another human to hold him. "Merry Christmas, Chandler!"

Chandler stands up, Erica in his arms, as my mother finally moves far enough into the house for my dad to enter. He wraps his arms around me as Chandler greets my mother with a hug only made awkward by the two babies in their arms.

My father goes over to Chandler, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he tickles Erica's side. "Merry Christmas, everyone." Chandler passes the baby off to my father, knowing that's what he's really after.

"I wish you'd let us know you were coming early. The place is a still a mess from this morning. We haven't even gotten dressed yet," I say, looking down at my pajamas.

"That's all right, Monica," my mom says, making faces at her grandson. "You don't have to impress us."

I roll my eyes and look over at Chandler, mouthing, "Since when?" He smiles at me, but says nothing.

"We're just here for the grandkids, anyway," my dad throws in, looking at Erica adoringly. I want to be offended, but I do understand the allure; my children are really damn cute.

"Well, come in, take your coats off." I grab the back of my mother's jacket to help her out of it as she shifts the baby from arm to arm, refusing to put him down for a moment.

"You okay, sweetie?" my father asks as her manages to remove his coat on his own. "You look like you've been crying."

"Oh." I smile self-consciously. "Erica just learned how to crawl. Like, five minutes ago."

"What a big girl," my dad exclaims, and Erica reaches up to him, trying to grab his face.

"What about Jack?"

"He figured it out two days ago," Chandler answers, and I move over to stand next to him, his arm going around my shoulder.

"They're growing up so fast," my mother says, kissing Jack's forehead. "We have presents for them out in the car, but we wanted to get in here and see them."

"That's okay," I tell her. "They need to go down for a nap soon, anyway. Presents now would probably just distract them." I can tell that my parents truly aren't interested in anything but the twins at the moment. "Either of you want coffee?" They both nod at me, and I shake my head as I walk into the kitchen.

The coffee pot is still on and mostly full; Chandler won't let me have anything but decaf, and lately, I've been vacillating between craving the taste of coffee and being completely repulsed by it. As I pour two mugs for my parents, I realize today is definitely a day I find it revolting. I take a few deep breaths through my mouth, trying to quell the queasy feeling. Fortunately, it subsides and I bring the coffee out to the living room, putting the mugs on one of the end tables.

Chandler looks at me curiously, probably noticing that I look a little pale. I shake my head and wrinkle my nose at the coffee, and he nods in understanding.

I love how we can have a complete conversation without ever saying a word.

"Monica," my mother says suddenly, and I turn to look at her. "Are you pregnant?"

I feel my eyes go wide as my mouth drops open; out of the corner of my eye I can see Chandler gaping at her as well. "How did you know?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"You are?" she exclaims, her expression shocked.

"How did you know?" I ask again, completely stunned.

"You're walking differently, for one," she explains.

"But, what does—what—how…?"

"It's the hips; the hips are the first part to really change. But I'd swear I just saw you make a face at coffee, and I've never known you to turn down coffee."

My head is swimming; I'm still completely surprised that she's managed to figure it out, and all by how I'm walking. I had no idea there'd been a change. I look over at my father, who's gaping at us in shock. My mother walks toward me, finally passing Jack to Chandler, her hands coming up to cup my face. "You're really pregnant?"

I nod, not trusting my voice, tears filling my eyes as I start to smile.

"Oh, my darling girl," she whispers, pulling me in to her arms. "Congratulations." I sniffle into her shoulder, and I'm pretty sure she's crying a bit, too. "How far along are you?"

"About three months," I whisper. "We just found out a couple of weeks ago." Crying on my mother's shoulder this time is significantly better than the last time, after I'd just found out we might never be able to get pregnant.

I feel Chandler's hand on my back and I smile; one of my mother's arms goes out to pull him into the hug. I feel my dad come up on my other side, his arm going around my shoulders, and it's one of the most wonderful moments of my life; me, my husband, our twins, my parents, and our unborn child all in a little huddle, true joy and warmth radiating out of us.

"I'm so happy for you both," I hear my father say, and my smile grows.

"Well, I guess that answers the question of when we're going to start telling people," Chandler quips, and it, fortunately, lightens the moment. We break apart from each other, and I wipe my eyes, trying to get myself under control.

"Don't worry about me," I say. "I cry all the time now." Chandler shifts Jack from one arm to the other, his free arm going around my shoulder and giving me a little squeeze.

My mother's hands go to my waist, holding me gently. "And everything's okay? Both of you are fine?"

I nod happily. "So far, so good. We go back in a couple of days, and we'll probably be monitored more closely than some, but the doctor didn't see any reason to be concerned."

Chandler nudges me gently. "Show them the picture."

Excitedly, I open up the drawer on the end table, pulling out one of the many copies we now have of the first sonogram. My parents ooh and ahh over it, and they look truly thrilled.

I look over at my husband, and he looks happier than I've ever seen him in the entire time I've known him. My heart swells with love for him and my family. I'm the reason that he's this happy.

And he's the reason I'm happy.

Him, and my perfect, wonderful life.