Nobody really talks about labour...

...But I will because, you really need to know what is waiting for you should you decide to have kids. Let's make it a bit of a game, shall we?

They say: Labour feels like period pains.

I say: I wouldn't wish such pain on my worst enemy. Well, maybe my worst enemy! It does feel like period pains in the same way that a pin prick compares to a knife wound... they both open the skin to some degree but that is where the similarity ends. It's like someone has tied several strings on each muscle strand in your abdomen and spends their time pulling it tighter and tighter and tighter as the night goes on. The strings extend all the way into your lower back as well.

They say: Breathing exercises help to get through the pain. Concentrating on your breathing helps you visualise all that lovely oxygen getting to your precious baby.

I say: Yes, but not in the way you'd think. Mostly it just takes your mind away from the mind-numbing, gut-wrenching, hallucinatory effects of the pain you're feeling.

They say: Pack lots of food (enough for you and your birth partner), reading material and music as well as your own pillows and scents to help you relax.

I say: HAHAHAHAHAHA! Forget it. Food? Music? You'll not even know where you are half the time. Eventually when you're driven mad by the pain, all you want is for the baby to come out...not to read the latest edition of Vogue.

They say: You may choose to support yourself by holding on to your partner with each contraction.

I say: In that primal state the last thing you're thinking about is a man to support you. More like, a man to kill.

They say: Have a birth plan which will tell your midwives what you want and how you want the labour to progress.

I say: Write a birth plan. Then rip it up and chew it. It probably is of more use to you as roughage (OK, I'm not saying it's of absolutely no use, I'm just saying it was of no use to ME. First of all, as someone with SPD I had access to a pool but there was no one to fill it because they had run out of the disposable lining for the inflatable bath. They just kept walking in, looking at the bath and walking out, like the bath was going to magically fill itself. I had to do the thing with the full effect of gravity weighing on my poor pelvis).

They say: You look at your child at the end, and it's all worth it. You'd totally go through it again.

I say: Yeah, that's about right.