That hasn't stopped me curling up in an armchair to watch this marvellous hour of television featuring stories from the birthing unit of a busy Australian hospital.

It's lucky for us that the man of the house has been away working each time we girls have settled in though, as I think he might not have taken to it as favourably as us.

Sometimes harrowing, always emotional, I don't think the birth stories would be daddy's cup of tea; he's still grappling with what he saw when he peaked over the surgical curtain during his third daughter's caesarean birth. We girls expecting our hero to watch three births in one hour would be a sure recipe for him to remember a vitally important job in the shed that couldn't wait.

One Born Every Minute has certainly given me the perfect opportunity to share my war stories though, enlightening the young ladies who were present on my delivery days but who were too tiny to remember all the exciting details.

Now, when I reminisce about the night Yasinta turned into the breech position and sealed the deal on a second caesarean, they understand why I decided not the test the scar. My tales of Tiani maintaining her breech position throughout my pregnancy until she was completed jammed up under my ribs and then yanked out with force on her birthday make more sense.

Explaining the trauma Kym felt when he had to decide how much time to spend beside the humidicrib of his premature firstborn while all the alarms kept going off, before rushing to the side his wife of 10 years while she received her blood transfusion and shook uncontrollably following pre-eclampsia and an emergency caesarean is something they have more context around now.

Us girls have enjoyed watching the beautiful relationships between the mums and dads and held our breathe until each newborn baby cried, then cried as each miracle baby was safely delivered into the loving arms of their family.

I'm confident my girls will forget the pain.