I had an elective 24 days ago and it was lovely. We went in, I got changed into a gown in a delivery room (i had to have help due to terrible spd, but if I was well I could have done it all myself) and then about ten different people took turns to come in and have lovely relaxed chats about "their" bit of the procedure.
I had plans to ask to have the screen lowered and see the placenta, or at least have the procedure described to me, but as it happened, as soon as I got on the table, I dissolved into a gibbering wreck and decided to try and ignore the fact I was having an operation at all. DD2 was born as me and DP discussed DD1s haircut.
As soon as she was born, they lifted her up above the screen and I burst into happy tears. I will never forget the sight of by beautiful fat little baby, screaming her healthy little lungs out, with her bright lilac cord hanging down. I actually had that rush of love that you read about as soon as I saw her. All I could do was lie there, crying and laughing and thanking everyone, then they gave her to DP who held her while we both stared in complete awe at her while I was sewn up.
Such a difference from DD1s birth, I have blocked most of it out, it was an emergency section and she was all skinny and ill, she couldn't even cry. It took me months to bond and I became seriously mentally ill. I absolutely adore them both now, and would go through any horrors for them, but DD2s birth was so incredibly different.
Planned sections are a million times better, and I'm not sure if it is just me, but I have recovered so much faster too. She was born at 11.26 on the monday, I was in the car on the way home at school chucking out time on the wednesday. Three weeks later I feel almost back to normal (I'd say most of the not-normal is down to the remains of spd and tiredness, not the section, which has just left me slightly stingy if my clothes rub)