Here's what I wrote.
Labor
By Pamela Anderson-Moore
It began without warning. The waves squeezed, tightened and washed over her core. They slammed into her pelvis, her back and her sides like the surf pounding into the shore during a hurricane. She ran her hand over her belly feeling the taunt skin and the underlying muscles momentarily harden into concrete.
“Two more weeks, you’re not due for two more weeks. Now stop it.” She ordered trying to intimidate the muscles into submission even though a part of her realized they had taken on a life of their own. The muscle loosened and she turned back to the work cluttering her desk.
The cheerful voices of her employees and the aroma of various homemade foods spilled out of the conference room and carried down the hallway further distracting her from the fundamental assignments she felt compelled to complete. For a moment she considered rejoining them at her baby shower but she had much too much work and they all wanted the shower more than she did.
Another contraction rocked her body, the numbers on her computer screen blurred as her eyes glazed over from the pain. She sank back in the chair realizing that she no longer had control of the body she once propelled through several triathlons. Stubborn like a bulldog with its jaws locked on its favorite bone, she refused to give up and turned once again to the work before her.
The gush of amniotic fluid signaled the inevitable and she struggled to her feet. Gathering some things from her desk, she headed out barking orders to her staff. Startled employees rushed to her side offering reassurances that all would be taken care of.
She settled into the passenger seat of a car as employees gathered around the car shouting
words of encouragement. “Your husband will meet you at the hospital.” Her assistant said taking her laptop and briefcase before handing it to a co-worker. The assistant climbed into the driver seat and started the engine.
“Hey.” She screamed realizing that she was alone without the items which occupied most of her time and attention. “Go back and get my stuff. I’ve got work to do.”
“Yes, you do have work to do.” The elderly woman steering the car said. “But you won’t need anything from the office."
