He read me a children's book while we waited. The Bears Expedition or something like that. He wasn't fazed when reading out aloud. It made me smile but also made me even more nervous. I was secretly happy that he'd forced me to let him come. I don't think I would have been able to cope on my own. Or make it back home by myself. The process took all of 10 minutes but the waiting took hours. I was awarded with a series of drugs through my veins and a hot cup of coffee. I didn't think I'd be that emotional. I'd read about it during our wait and I didn't see the need because it had to be done. Walking around town seeing mothers happy with their newborn children in prams really got to me and I found I couldn't control my tears any longer. His GP was my surgeon. His GP got to go into the deep beyond. All I could be concerned about was that I was wearing socks with butterflies on them. His GP saw my socks. His GP saw a lot more than my socks.