Like burnt toast that fell on the floor and has cat hair all over it

That's what I feel like this morning. Icky, crappy, dirty old toast. I am such a drama queen. Thank god for good coffee and itunes.

Another birth gone by way of the operating room. I have gotten so swept up in my own feelings about seeing so many cesareans that I am no longer able to say if I think it was necessary or not. All I know this morning is that the look in the eyes of a woman who has labored for a long time and is now being rolled down the hall for surgery is almost too much for me to bear. She will recover physically and mentally...but will i?