The city was facing one of the fiercest storms that it had seen in nearly three years. And of course, Liz was now 38 weeks along in her pregnancy, but hadn’t gone on maternity leave yet.
Things had been smooth-sailing to this point: no problems with the progression of the pregnancy, no Braxton-Hicks contractions, no issues with their sex life: nothing had gone wrong.
But of all the days that Liz could go into labor, it had to be this one: the day that promised at least a foot of snow, rolling blackouts across the city,
and inevitable accidents that called for paramedic attention.
Liz had woken up with some weak pain in her lower back, but passed it off as just a twinge. A few hours at work, and the pain started getting a little more intense.
She was still able to work, and the inordinate amount of walking and moving about she did in her day was helping with the pain.
At lunch, she brought it up to Jack, who told her that he would call her doctor and told her to keep track of how far apart her contractions were.
By the end of the day, they were getting more serious, but Liz was still able to walk and talk without issue. They were painful, but not excruciating.
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