I’m not ready!” I blurted out as I was being wheeled into my caesarean section, at 3.30 pm to be exact. I’d had it in the diary for months – it was well planned. But I felt terrified. I wanted to jump off the hospital trolley and make a sharp U-turn out of the building. The thought of having a new baby in my arms within 10 to 15 minutes threw me. It just felt too quick. The nurse rolled her eyes and looked at me in horror. “It’s a bit late now for all that, isn’t it?” she laughed. “You’ve had nine months to prepare. Surely having a baby can’t be a shock!”
Little did I know the whole experience was going to be hellish as we headed through the swing doors and into an operating theatre, where I was greeted by a team of doctors in green hospital scrubs. What did I have to complain about anyway? As the nurse pointed out, my surgery was running on time, so I didn’t have to hang around wailing in pain like other mums in the labour ward. I didn’t even have to push.
