Allison MacDonald, 45, a communications consultant in Joburg, has two teenage sons. She had Jasper when she was 27 and Ferguson when she was 30. By choice, they were both Caesarean deliveries. A little tongue-in-cheek, she explains why she opted for operations.
When I was about six, I found out how babies are made and was determined that I would never acquire my babies in such a ridiculous and utterly gross way.
By about 16, unsurprisingly, I had changed my mind about the logistics and technicalities of conception. But I was deeply worried about birth.
By my early 20s I had researched childbirth like a PhD student in climatology researches El Nino. I had read every birth manual I could lay my hands on. I had poured over the pictures, mesmerised and appalled. I had interrogated mothers to find out all I could about childbirth.
I had investigated epidurals. I heard all the horror stories of 24-hour labours, breech babies, meconium in the amniotic fluid, umbilical cords wrapped around necks, water births, home births and hospital births. I knew about "The Enema".
I knew exactly what an episiotomy was. And I also knew for sure I was never going to have one of those. It seemed totally barbaric.
Confirmation of my first pregnancy brought unbridled joy. Then I realised that I would have to give birth to the baby we had conceived. I started thinking seriously about Caesarean sections.
I saw three obstetricians before I found one who would agree to a planned C-section.
The others told me they thought it unwise as there were increased risks to the baby and me.
They told me there was nothing wrong with me and that I should just accept that vaginal delivery was part of being a woman.
"Pah!" I thought, "What do they know?"
Wearing fabulous lingerie and paying off the bond makes me feel like a woman. Lying on my back, feet in the air, shrieking while someone yells at me to push, does not.
The first three doctors did not realise that I knew the statistics as well as they did. It's true that a Caesar marginally increases risk to mother and baby. Increased risk across all perils (bleeding to death, anaesthesia complications, pulmonary embolism and paralysed bowel, for example) averages out at about 4%.
Having decided to give birth in a private clinic in Joburg and having been reassured that fine surgeons, anaesthetists and midwives would be attending me, I decided to go with the 4% increased risk.
My dignity and body, I decided, were worth it. And besides, there was a 96% chance that everything would be fine. These were odds that reassured me. I was resolute. It was a C-section or suicide.
Everything was predictable and pleasant. Surgery was scheduled 10 days before my due date. I had time to wax (there was no shaving of my "bits"). I had a bubble bath, a wonderful supper out with my husband, a calm drive through to the clinic. My waters did not break in the shops. There was no enema and no puffing and panting like a dog. There was no pushing and no pain.
But most important of all, there was no episiotomy and no vaginal stretching or tearing.
More women should know about the damage that natural childbirth and episiotomies do to the vagina and perineum.
An episiotomy and stretched vagina, so I am told and I have read, affects your enjoyment of sex for the rest of your life. It may, in fact, be one of the reasons men leave their wives for 25-year-olds.
Some women suffer permanent urinary and faecal incontinence as a result of childbirth. Today, 17 years and two babies later, my urogenital anatomy is in exactly the same condition it was pre-pregnancy.
The Caesar (with epidural) took all of about 45 minutes. The medical team of about 10 people was wonderful. They played Hotel California as they worked.
My husband was there throughout. The doctors and nurses spoke to us, discussed the weather and chatted jocularly with each other about the Currie Cup.
Our son gave a lusty cry when he was delivered. Everybody cheered. I burst into tears. For a moment or two I thought my husband would literally burst from pride and happiness. Every medical professional in the room congratulated me. They sewed me up and wheeled me back to the ward.
I gave birth to another son by C-section three years later. Both Caesars were dignified. I bonded instantly with my babies. I breastfed them easily. I recovered beautifully from the surgeries. I planted roses in the garden when my first son was 10 days old and I was playing tennis by the time he was eight weeks old.
It's the only way to have a baby.