Taking the Challenge -- Part 1

November is a two for. The writers are pushing for a mere 50,000 word novel. And the bloggers are looking to write everyday; something. So, today, waking up with a headache, I decided to try for both -- here. What I write will be fiction. Nothing is real except my age. I'll be 47 tomorrow.

AND SO IT BEGINS HERE:

PART 1

From the awkward half reclined, half sitting up position, Charlotte stammered, "I don't have time for this. I had to squeeze in this appointment."

"So congratulations aren't in order?"

Congratulations... congratulations... Last time she'd heard that word was in an email from her editor. How easy it was to claim him for her own. But was he? No, he worked for a local free rag, and let's face it, if you looked at dollars per hour spent slamming the keys, it was pennies to the pound.

"Are you okay?" asked the doctor. Her doctor, balding, puggy, catcher of two out of her three children, Dr. Houseman.

She glanced over her splayed knees and tried to appear more lady-like. "Fine, no worries. But I need to get out of here to get the kids. Early release you know."

"Right, but you'll need to make another appointment. You're ten weeks along."

Ten weeks. How did this happen? Three months ago, she was basking in the wonderful symptoms of menopause and now she was pregnant. Pulling her feet off the stirrups, she came to a full upright position. This was serious. This wasn't going to go away. It wasn't a deadline for an article, a bake sale, a Christmas concert, a parish council meeting, it was a baby.

"Charlotte, do you need the nurse?"

"No, " she sighed. "I need some answers. How did this happen? I'm old. I had my tubes tied years ago."

"It happens. More often than we want to admit." Then after a lengthy, pregnant pause... Dr. Houseman added, "Did you want to terminate?"

"No." The word came so quickly that Charlotte's hadn't even had a chance to fully process that thought and implications. Never terminate. It's not a sentence, or a contract. It's a baby. She'd be 64 and sitting at yet another high school graduation; probably sitting next to her grandchild, but she'd be there. "No," she repeated more thoughtfully, with a weak smile, as she stood to get dressed.

There was no time for modesty. The girls were getting out of school in 20 minutes. She had to take them to the bank, then buy some milk, start dinner and then take the youngest, who wasn't really the youngest anymore for a doctor's appointment. "I'm fine. I'll call about that appointment tomorrow. I have to run."