I blink my eyes sleepily, our bedroom bathed in the soft, early light of a summer morning. Chandler's chest is pressed against the bare skin of my back, his arms wrapped tightly around me, resting just on top of my huge belly.
Sleeping has been no easy task lately; sleeping for longer than a couple of hours at a stretch has been even trickier. Lucky for me, the most comfortable position I've found has been to sleep on my side with a pillow tucked between my knees, another one under my stomach, and Chandler curled up behind me.
Overall, I'd say it could be worse.
Chandler doesn't seem to mind it, either, though he's always been cuddly during sleep. Interesting, considering he, apparently, used to be a fan of the "tuck-and-roll" method. I told him early on in our relationship that if he needed his space when sleeping to let me know—I would have rather known at that point than get used to wrapping myself around him at night only to find out that it bothered him—but he's never had a problem with it. If I don't wake up wrapped around him it's only because he's wrapped around me.
Even better is that we've started sleeping completely naked. Being thirty-five weeks pregnant in June has done me no favors; I'm hot all the time, and with just over a month to go, it's only going to get worse. Since I seem to get the sweatiest in my sleep, I cut out the middle man and just sleep nude. To be honest, it feels pretty fantastic. I don't feel like clothes are being caught up and twisted all the time around my bloated body, and it's significantly cooler to sleep this way.
Plus, in an act of solidarity, so he likes to say, Chandler's been sleeping naked, too. It's been a while since we slept this way regularly, and I'd forgotten how nice it feels. There's nothing quite like skin-to-skin contact, and I don't know if I'll be able to go back to wearing pajamas in another month.
This has also made my life much easier for those moments I decide that I absolutely must have my husband. Chandler's been wonderfully accommodating about that, as well; middle of the night, middle of the afternoon, whenever, if I ask him for sex, he's ready and willing.
It's hard to believe that just a few weeks ago I felt so completely undesirable; if I'd just taken a few minutes to pay attention to the way he looks at me, I would have known this wasn't the case—not even a little bit. I don't know what it is exactly about my pregnant body that turns him on so, but he can't seem to get enough of it. He's endlessly fascinated by the changes in me, and how I can look one way one day, and look totally different a day or two later. I keep telling him it's because the baby is growing so quickly now, but he insists that it's something about me, too.
I've been pretty amazed that my need for him hasn't really decreased at all this entire time. Even when I was completely bogged down with morning sickness I wanted him. I may not have been able to do anything about it, but I wanted him. Sometimes it's been to the point of insanity, or at least it feels like it. My body feels like it's constantly on fire or electrified and I actually crave his touch. I just need him all the time. It's not just that I'm horny, though, because I don't look at some guy I pass on the street and want to jump his bones; it's only Chandler that I want, that I need.
I think that part helps to turn him on even more.
Fortunately, my doctor said it's perfectly fine if we have sex pretty much up until my water breaks as long as it's still comfortable for me.
I shift my hips back against Chandler's a bit—thinking about sex while pressed against his bare flesh has actually made my heart start to race. Even though he's still sleeping, I can feel his body stir against me, slowly coming to life, and I can't help but feel a bit smug. So what if it's a guy's normal morning reaction? I can let myself believe it's because of what I do to him.
I push my hips against him a little more insistently, hoping his subconscious will clue him in to what's going on in the real world. He mumbles in his sleep, his arms tightening around me as he kisses my shoulder. I carefully lift my leg and drape it over his, rubbing his calf with my foot, his morning erection coming into contact with me, and I shudder, thrusting my hips a bit more. Sex isn't easy in this position, but at this point, it isn't terribly easy in any position. We try like hell to make it work, though.
"And a good morning to you, too," he says suddenly, his voice scratchy with sleep. "How are we feeling?"
I rub myself against him, squeezing his fingers. "Antsy. You?"
He laughs a little, and I can feel it rumble through his chest. "Ready to start the day." He kisses my shoulder, the back of my neck, and I feel him poke his head up. I turn my head and see him smiling down at me. I lift my head up a little to reach him; he kisses me gently, his hips slowly moving against mine. He untangles a hand from our grasp and slides it slowly down my side, taking a few moments to stroke my belly before resuming its path down to my hip. He reaches my thigh and grasps me firmly, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of my inner leg. I moan and gasp simultaneously; just this is nearly able to send me over the edge.
His fingers move up a little, dancing across me, and I tear my lips from his. "Ohhhh. Ohhhhhh, God."
He moves his fingers against me more firmly; I can hear him breathing heavily in my ear, and I'll be damned if that doesn't turn me on even more.
"Now," I moan. "Oh, please now." I bring my hand down, reaching for him, helping to guide him into me, sighing with relief when he finally is. His fingers move back to my thigh, digging into me as he pauses for a moment. I swallow heavily, waiting for him.
"You feel more amazing every day," he whispers into my ear, finally thrusting against me slowly.
I thread my fingers through his at my thigh, pushing back against him as best as I can. "Chandler," I moan.
He kisses my neck again, his lips moving up to the space behind my ear. "I love you," he whispers.
"Love you," I answer, gasping. It certainly doesn't take me long these days.
He reaches down and taps my knee. "Put your leg down." Confused, I comply, then gasp again as I can feel him even better.
"Yeahhhhhh," I moan, turning my face into his arm, my knees curling up slightly. I feel his leg shift so that it's now on top of mine and I think I'm going to cry it feels so good. I push my hips against his again, straining for more contact.
He puts his hand on my hip, stilling my motions. "Let me do the work," he murmurs. "You just lay back and enjoy it."
His hips start to move more insistently. "Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes," I moan with every thrust, every time he makes contact. His hand slides up me again, massaging my breasts tenderly, somehow knowing without me ever saying to be gentle.
My hand reaches out, gripping the edge of the mattress, helping me bend in half just a little more before my belly gets in the way.
He shifts his position suddenly, lifting up a little as he slides his arm out from under me, leaning over me. His leg stays put, but I feel the angle inside of me change, hitting a whole new spot. I let out a noise that sounds like a sob and he stills.
"You okay?" he gasps, his fingers clutching my hip as he struggles to control himself.
I reach my hand back, digging my fingers into his ass, trying to pull him closer. "Don't stop," I command, and he instantly returns to action. His hips slam into me for a few moments and I cry out, grabbing at him, the mattress, anything I can. I'm sure he must be almost done when he comes to a complete stop and leans over me, kissing me frantically. He slides his hand between my legs again, rubbing me vigorously, and my entire body starts to crackle. I moan into his mouth. "Uhhh. Uhhh. Uhhh. Uhhh. Uhhh."
His lips leave mine and I feel him shift again; I look over my shoulder and see that he's on his knees behind me. He braces his hands on my leg for a moment before leaning forward, placing his hands on the mattress in front of me, his hips resuming their frantic motions. He looks over at me and grins, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face.
God, he's hot.
"This is new," I moan as he drives into me.
"Is it okay?" he grunts.
"So very much."
He slams against me and I cry out, my hand scrambling against his back, desperate for purchase. Out of nowhere, my body explodes, millions of tiny white stars flashing behind my eyelids, and I feel a scream tear out of my throat; I turn my head and bury my face in the pillow, hoping to muffle myself at least a little, trying not to wake the twins. "YES! OH, GOD YES!"
His body jerks against me and tenses for a moment as he practically growls, "Monica!" His hips pound into me for a few more moments as he releases himself. I'm still going, my hips pushing against him, and he moves his hand to my pelvis once more. I grind myself against him a few more times, feeling another orgasm tear through me before my body finally comes to a halt, shaking.
He gasps and flops down next to me, his head at my feet. He wraps his arms around my knees and kisses my ankle. "God, I love waking up like this."
I laugh a little, words beyond me right now, and nod in agreement.
"Pregnant sex is pretty great," he adds.
"Yeah, it is," I finally groan, and it truly is. The only thing I miss is being able to have him on top of me, but I know it will only be a few months before we can do that again.
I feel the baby stretch inside of me, its knees and elbows digging into me as it readjusts its position. "Baby Bing is awake," I tell Chandler, and his shaky hand comes up and rubs the side of my stomach.
"Hi, Baby," he mumbles. "How'd you sleep?"
"Fine, as usual. She's just taking up a lot of space inside Mommy right now." The baby shifts again and my eyes open wide as it presses against my bladder. "Emergency," I say as I move my legs over the side of the bed, struggling to sit up.
"Need help?" Chandler asks, and I have to laugh a little; he's still sprawled on his side, looking like a pile of goo.
"I think you're worse off than I am," I tell him, finally standing, shuffling toward the bathroom as quickly as I can.
This is definitely one of the less romantic sides to pregnancy, one that's rarely mentioned. It's not just that it's the need to pee frequently and urgently at times…or all the time, but more that most of the time, you're really not sure if you're going to actually make it to a bathroom. It's super fun and super sexy. Lucky for me, Chandler just takes it all in stride, never flinching or looking grossed out at the weird things my body is doing.
And I love him so much for it.
I look down at my stomach, poking it gently with a finger. "You done for now?" There's no further movement against my bladder, so I take that as I sign that I'm finished for the moment. After washing my hands, I start to brush my teeth, startling at my reflection for just a moment. I don't know why, but it's always a shock to see my naked, pregnant body staring back at me, almost as if, sometimes, it's not really me. I avert my eyes and go back to my teeth—if I start inspecting myself now, it could be a while before I stop. It's weird but entirely fascinating, especially in a clinical sort of way.
I wander back into our bedroom, laughing to see Chandler still sprawled on his side, looking blissful and tired. I grab my pajama pants from the foot of the bed and sit down, tugging them awkwardly up my legs. "Don't you need to get up and start getting ready for work?"
He groans in disappointment and rolls over, burying his face in the mattress. "Aw, Monica. Do I have to? Can't we just stay in bed and make love all day?"
I reach back and rub his hair affectionately. "I don't think your boss would appreciate that."
"It's not fair for you to do things like this to me before work," he teases, scooting forward until his lips land on my hip, tracing slowly up my back, and I feel goosebumps breakout all over my flesh. Trying to ignore him, I grab my t-shirt and pull it over me, though it still doesn't manage to cover the entire belly.
"Go take a shower," I tell him.
"Wanna join me?" His lips move to the back of my neck and I tilt my head to one side, despite myself.
"That seems like an effective use of your time. But, I don't think any form of shower sex is the best idea at this point in the pregnancy," I remind him, and I feel him hum against me in agreement. "I'm gonna go get Jack and Erica."
He kisses my neck one last time before heaving himself off the bed. "Okay. Let me brush my teeth and I'll be right there."
"Just go ahead and shower," I tell him. "I'll be fine with diaper duty, and we'll wait for you to come downstairs."
"Sounds good," he tells me over his shoulder, the bathroom door mostly shutting behind him, and I waddle down the hall and into the nursery, pulling the baby gate shut behind me. Erica's already standing up, holding onto the rails of her crib, grinning at me.
"Mama," she says to me in her tiny, sing-song voice.
"Erica," I answer, using the same lilting tone. "How's my beautiful little girl this morning?" I gently take the sides of her face in my hands and kiss the top of her head. "I love you." I look in on Jack, expecting him to still be sound asleep. He's still smooshed against the mattress, but he's peaking up me out of the corner of his eye, smiling at me. I lean over the edge of the crib and rub his back gently. "Good morning, sleepy boy. I love you, too." With surprising speed, he grabs the rails of his crib and pulls himself into a standing position; he tilts his head a little, his lips pursing a bit, so I plant a kiss on him, making him giggle.
I love these two babies so much it hurts.
"Okay—who's first?" I look back and forth between them; Jack yawns and rubs his face, Erica bounces up and down. "All right, pee-pee pants," I tell her, pulling her out first. "Let's get you changed."
I put her down on the changing table, unsnapping her pajamas as she tries to wiggle away from me. "Oh, no you don't. You'll have plenty of time for that in a minute; you need to be clean and dry first." I change her diaper—no easy feat when she won't stop squirming—then put her on the floor so she can roam around. "All right, nature child—be free." I turn back to the cribs and Jack grins at me again, and my eyes inadvertently fill with tears. These two are really spectacular.
"Come here, little guy." I pick him up and groan. "Oof. Not-so-little guy. What are you doing in your sleep, Jack—body building?" His hand reaches out for my cheek, so I turn my face and kiss his palm; his eyes light up. Seriously—they're killing me today with this sort of cuteness.
"Mama," he tells me as I put him on the changing table, pulling off his clothes with much more ease.
"Yes, dear? Did you need to tell me something?"
He just claps his hands as I pull off the dirty diaper, and only starts to wiggle as I put on a new one. "I know." I tell him. "You like to be naked, too. But anyone with the sort of equipment you have needs to be kept under wraps for a while." We've learned the hard way that Jack, if left uncovered for just a moment too long, has the ability to hit a painting on a wall across the room. It's pretty impressive and completely hilarious.
"Good morning, munchkins," Chandler says, stepping over the baby gate with ease.
"Show off," I mumble good-naturedly as I put Jack into a standing position on the changing table, keeping one hand on his back and one on his belly. Stepping over anything that high is definitely beyond me right now.
Erica looks up from her position on the floor, her arms stretching up as a smile lights up her face. "Dada!"
"Good morning, sweet cheeks," he tells her, scooping her off the floor and swinging her through the air for just a second before pulling her against his side, kissing her round little face.
"Dada," Jack echoes and my eyes grow wide. Chandler just smiles at Jack, coming over to kiss his cheek, too.
"Good morning, Jack Attack. How are you—" Chandler stops, his eyes growing wide, too, as he realizes that it's the first time our son has said that. "Jack…did you…you just…" His eyes start to water; hearing our babies learn to speak has just as much of an effect on my husband as it does on me. He scoops Jack into his arms as well, doing his happy dance. I roll my eyes even as I laugh—all these years and he still does the same goofy dance. "You've just made your old man so happy," he tells Jack. "Wait 'til I tell everyone at work that you finally said 'dada'."
"Dada," he says again, his voice so tiny, but so sure. I knew he'd say it in his own time, when he was good and ready for it. This will keep Chandler going for hours; I'm sure he'll call as often as he can just to hear our little boy ask for his "dada."
"Uhh…" He clears his throat and tries again. "You want to get them dressed up here or…?"
I shake my head, pulling their clothes out of their little dresser. "Breakfast first; they're much easier to wipe down like this."
He nods, distracted, and I reach for Erica, figuring he'll want to try to coax another "dada" out of Jack on the way to the kitchen. Chandler unlocks the baby gate for me, and I feel the baby poke at me again, almost as if it's trying to remind that it's there, to not forget about it.
Like that could happen.
I follow Chandler downstairs; he glances over his shoulder at me every few steps to make sure I'm okay, and I appreciate the concern. Stairs are becoming more challenging by the day, especially with an armful of baby, but so far I've been managing.
He puts Jack in his high chair, then takes Erica from me, buckling her in as well as I set about getting their breakfast stuff ready. Chandler's arms slide around me, hugging me from behind. "Our kids are pretty perfect, aren't they?"
I nod, leaning into him for just a second. "Yeah. Yeah, they are."
I don't want to say it, because it sounds arrogant, but so is our life.
It's perfect.