This was one of Beck Vass' best columns of 2018
Life has a way of throwing the things you least expect at you, I pondered, as I sat in an anaesthetist's office at Tauranga Hospital with my three-year-old son groping each of my boobs, one after the other.
"Honk-honk" left, and "honk-honk" right. And again, repeatedly, as this intelligent, professional woman tried to explain the process of the c-section birth I am about to have in a matter of weeks.
My husband was going to come to this appointment but it's our third child and I wasn't bothered when he said had a work meeting.
It was all made that much worse by the fact that said child had given me a cold which he of course had mostly recovered from but which I was in the thick of and, despite having had a good day the day prior, for some reason, at that moment, I had developed one leaky eye that wouldn't stop streaming.
So, as I sat there, dabbing at my left eye with a tissue and trying to ignore the indecent assault I was enduring in front of a medical professional while trying to take in some quite important information, I felt the need to explain:
"We chose to have another one. We wanted it."
My son elbowed me in the stomach. I asked him not to. He laughed and did it again.
This kid is usually so gentle and careful around the baby, he kisses my stomach and tells me he is going to give the baby his Bunny, his most prized possession in all the world.
I was only not crying because I sort of already was.
Our boy is usually pretty good. I wouldn't have taken him to the appointment if he wasn't.
He had his lunch box with him and as he tried to harass me, he dropped it on the floor.
The doctor did well to completely ignore him as she was trying to explain to me about how placenta previa - the complication I have that requires the c-section because the baby's placenta is growing completely across the "regular" exit - can impact on a c-section delivery.
She said I'd need to have a scan before the operation to check where the placenta is exactly to make sure it wasn't where they would cut me, and also to assess the risk of heavy blood loss or the quite unlikely but potential of me needing complete anaesthesia or a hysterectomy, as I scrambled to clean up the popcorn and sandwich mess my kid had made, with my one eye leaking and soul crumbling.
I wished she could put me out then and there.
I'd had questions I wanted to ask but didn't get to ask them.
I was weighed and have now put on 16kg, and sent on my way. Truly the best day ever!
As we left, I growled at my son about how he knew I expected more from him and he needs to stop when someone says stop, and he'd only had to sit for five minutes with me, and how we don't touch other people's bodies, especially their boobs or bottoms, just like no one is allowed to touch his.
He replied: "Take me to the beach."
And we're about to have another one.