As a teen I'd heard that giving birth was like squeezing a giant orange out of a nostril. But of course, that was not the reason I chose to go for a caesarean. In the end it was an informed decision, not made lightly because I was chickening out. In my view I was just taking advantage of a modern medical advance, which has been proven to be safe for millions of babies and mothers.

But, judging from many women's reactions, it was as if I'd confessed to a back-street abortion in some random shack. I found this odd because I certainly wasn't judging other methods of delivery. After all, it's a personal choice.

As my pregnancy started showing, strangers and colleagues would coo at my belly, ask if I knew what I was having and if I was going to have him "natural" (as some woman so eloquently put it).

At first, I was generous with the truth: "I've decided to have an EC (elected caesarean)," I'd chirp, having just learnt the terminology from my gynae and very eager to use it.

The responses were varied, but largely negative. The reactions ranged from disapproving stares to passionate pleas to try and convince me to choose otherwise. I heard countless horror stories; a favourite being that the anaesthetic would not wear off and I would be paralysed on the operating table!

Taking the shortcut
I was told I was not a real woman because I was going for a shortcut, that it was "un-African" (I still can't figure that one out) and that my son would not bond with me. I heard that my scar would never heal properly and I would feel excruciating pain every time the weather was chilly.

There were also strong opinions from some people in the medical profession, who would have much rather had me push the baby out than go under the knife. In fact a nurse assistant, upon finding out I was going to have the operation, tapped my vagina ever so lightly and belligerently said: "What is this for?"

Great sex I almost retorted, but bit my lip because I thought it would be an inappropriate thing to say since she was my mother's age but behaving rather badly.

Feeling judged, I resorted to lying about the baby's size and his position in my womb. People are always accepting and rather sympathetic when you say the baby is too large to push out or that he is breached.

My mother (who has been a nurse for more than 20 years and is a mother of two healthy and intelligent children) on the other hand didn't hesitate in telling me I had made the right choice.

It turns out that before me, my older sister died after vaginal delivery complications. Second, third and a number of other opinions assured me to go for a caesar.

And when my turn came to have my child on that Valentines morning, I put on lip-gloss and had my baby. It was the easiest thing to do.

After day one of surgery I was breastfeeding, and on the fourth day I walked out of hospital, not bending over or being wheeled as I was told. Now I'm just waiting for that cold weather...

Do you feel like you were judged because you chose to have a caesarean? Or do you believe it's "un-African"? Tell us in the comment box below.