Transition

'What's it called when women go a bit mad during labour?' said the husband of one of Erin's workmate's to his wife at Erin's leaving do last night.

I much prefer talking to men about labour than women. The most women give is, 'you'll never know the pain unless you go through it yourself.' But most men don't have the filter in their brain to stop themsleves.

'Transition, that's what it's called,' his wife answered, having answered this question a few hundred times before.

'Yeah, transition, that's it. Wow, it's awful. You'll get called everything under there sun, they have no idea what they are saying,' he said looking at his wife for confirmation.

He got it and carried on, 'They tell you they don't love, never loved you, hate you, that you'll never go near them again and you shouldn't have been near them in the first place. There is anger and venom in their voice. They lose it.'

He let go of the emotions which he certainly couldn't during this tirade in labour and ended 'But when it's all over they have more love for you and the baby than you will ever know'.

Later we snook into his son's bedroom. Erin and his wife didn't know what we were doing and thought he was showing his son off. What he was actually doing was letting me feel the temperature of the bedroom. Showing that children need the room cooler than we do. 18 degrees to be precise.