No one seems to have missed (aside from my husband, who apparently lives under a rock) the news that The Duchess of Cambridge, or as she’s still referred to by the media, Kate Middleton has just given birth to her third child.
I know a lot of folk are all “who cares, tax payers money blah blah blah” but personally I think it’s lovely. It’s a new life and that is nothing to be mardy about.
Now, here’s the part where I feel sorry for the super rich, glossy haired, well spoken and frankly Disney Princess loveliness that is K-Middy.
Firstly, I have only ejected two of my little bundles of terror from my womb. The idea of doing it a third time is enough to make me reach for the gin with a shaking hand and a green face. Giving birth is not a pleasant experience for anyone involved really (add to this another apology from me for yelling at the ever amazing QMC staff to “get me some effing drugs you effing bastards!”), it’s lots and lots of liquid, just gushing from everywhere, lots of waiting around, enough blood and gore to satisfy even the most hardened horror fan and then a fair bit of pain as your little bambino tears it’s way forcefully into the world. Lovely stuff.
So three times? I’ll pass thanks very much.
Secondly, she has to shag Prince William.
Finally, most new mums exiting hospital do it wearing their comfy joggers, distended stomachs encased in the fuzzy warmth of an oversized hoody, zero make up and hair that looks like it’s spent a week immersed in a deep fat fryer. There are rarely any pictures of the actual exit from the hospital, and if there were on mine I would like them to be immediately incinerated upon pain of death.
The Duchess’ stylist was seen leaving the hospital earlier in the day, she had a full face of expertly applied make up, her hair was perfect and she was wearing heels. Her outfit echoed that of Princess Diana’s when she left the hospital with His Royal Hotness Prince Harry, and you can bet that that was no happy coincidence. The idea of the meticulous planning that has to go into her outfit, the baby seat, the childrens outfits upon arrival at the hospital etc etc is enough to make me tired, and I’ve not just pushed an 8lb 7oz baby out.
It’s no exaggeration to say that the worlds media was avidly watching for the sight of this new baby, almost like he belongs to them, and not to the new parents. The pressure this must put on William and Catherine (is that what we call them? I’ve lost track of the names to be honest) must be absolutely immense, but not by a flicker of her perfectly tended eyebrows did she show it.
So yes, whilst she may seem to live a charmed life of wealth and privilege, it’s important to remember that whilst she has to put on the Big Show for the world, hours after giving birth, we got to shuffle out to the car park, in our comfies with a delicious smelling baby and an undercarriage like it’d been attacked by a juggernaut. And I wouldn’t swap places with her in that moment for the Crown Jewels themselves.