It was a Tuesday afternoon and the midwife had just told me to get my gown on and get on the bed.
I was 39 weeks pregnant and blissfully confused. I politely declined her offer. “Oh no thank you,” I said, “I’ll just go home now.” I went to leave.
She laughed in my face, “no dear, your waters have broken, you don’t go home. We’re inducing you” and that’s when my wall of denial collapsed and the panic of imminent labour hit me.
The contractions came on thick and fast. We watched The Block on TV. Well, Sarge watched while I timed my contractions. Every two minutes; I had an app.