Maggie ignored Will’s comment. I managed to pull myself together.

‘There we go – well done. That woke us all up. And didn’t it feel great?’ No one replied. ‘One thing you should know about me is that I love vaginas,’ she continued, clearly revelling in our puce faces. ‘I love talking about them and I absolutely love marvelling at the magical and wondrous things they can do. No fannying around here. And I love nipples too. Basically, I’m vagina and nipple mad.’

Will suddenly exploded with laughter again. ‘Sorry!’ he murmured. ‘But this is… unexpected.’ Carol gave him a quizzical sideways look, and I couldn’t quite determine whether she agreed with him or if his announcements were embarrassing her.

Maggie glared, unimpressed. ‘Well, William, dear, with babies you need to expect the unexpected. You’ll see.’

That told him. Will rolled his eyes. I liked Will; he was showing more spark now.

Right now my vagina wasn’t feeling particularly magical or wondrous. I was also painfully aware of what my poor unsuspecting vag was going to go through in not-very-many weeks’ time: scrutiny by various members of hospital staff, some painful war-wounds delivering my gigantic baby… It all felt pretty terrifying.

‘Lovely,’ Maggie continued, undeterred and looking happy again. ‘Now that we’ve broken the ice, let’s get to the nitty-gritty. Hands up who’s made a birth plan already?’

Helen, Lucy and Susie raised their hands. I instantly felt insecure again, for not having done mine.

‘I have it here,’ Helen said, putting the rest of us to shame. She had taken a folded-up piece of paper from a pocket at the back of her pristine notepad and was waving it excitedly, as though it held the meaning of the Da Vinci code.

‘That’s great, ladies. You don’t have to tell us what’s in it – I’m always happy to have a natter one-on-one if you’d like to, it’s a very personal choice. But I would say that writing a simple and informed birth plan – or a “vaginal instruction plan”, a V.I.P. as I call it – is a useful exercise to help ensure your wishes are known by your partner and birth team, and, of course, your beloved vagina.’ She paused for dramatic effect, and presumably to check our cheeks had remained a shade not far off beetroot. I was starting to think Maggie wasn’t the kind of person I would want in close proximity if I was actually in labour. I imagined her doing something embarrassing like shouting about my ‘magical vagina’ instead of finding someone to give me an epidural in my moment of need.

‘So, for those who have not yet created their V.I.P., let’s look at the options,’ she continued, before adding to the three who had raised their hands: ‘You might want to change your plans at the last minute – so you should find this relevant and useful too.’

I reached into my bag again, this time for my notepad and pen. Like most of my notepads, it was filled with half-finished sketches and doodles. I turned to a blank page and scribbled down ‘Write Birth Plan’, underlining it twice. Then I doodled ‘V.I.P.’ next to it, noticing my hand was shaking slightly. I felt thoroughly out of my depth.