I hadn’t planned for my first post in a wee while to be about the royal birth, not least because I’m not a monarchist, and have not been following The Pregnancy with avid interest. Two things, however, made me change my mind. The first is that my last few posts have been on reasonably ‘heavy’ subjects and I thought it was probably time for a change of pace. The second is that The Happy Event occurred about 24 hours after the earthquake I last posted about: news about something as everyday and positive as a new baby suddenly seemed way more appealing than it had previously. It also provided a bit of light relief from constantly refreshing GeoNet or the Wellington Regional Emergency Management Office Facebook page for news.
The coverage of said Happy Event left me pondering a few things about the narratives constructed around pregnancy and birth, both this particular royal birth and births in general:
1) Back in March this year, author Hilary Mantel, who has written bestselling novels involving historical royals, made some fairly conventional remarks to the effect that Kate Middleton’s job was basically to look pretty and breed (although she may have worded it a little more strongly than that). Her point - a minor one in her talk - was about the perception of the Royal Person generated by the tabloid media, but this didn’t prevent her being pilloried by media (both tabloid and some broadsheets) and politicians alike (I mean, really, didn’t Ed Milliband or David Cameron have anything else to do that day? Surely the latter, at least, had benefits to cut, programmes to slash and jobs for the boys to distribute?)
But, not surprisingly at all, the coverage of Middleton’s middle as it expanded and then of the subsequent birth pretty much conformed exactly to what Mantel said it would: a focus on her looks and body and on all the minutiae of the pregnancy and birth. So, basically, whatever else she may have to offer, Middleton, like other women in the public eye, was reduced to the corporeal, specifically to her reproductive capabilities. Attention was also drawn to the fact that she listed ‘Princess’ as her job on the birth registration form. Nothing like peddling some conservative constructions of womanhood to sell a few papers is there?
2) Having said that, I’m not going to deny that the birth of any baby is special. But, as nurse-academic Ruth de Souza, eloquently writes, I wish ‘we’ treated every baby as if he or she were as special as this baby. De Souza, who formerly worked in a post-natal ward, points out that not all mothers and their children are sentimentalised in the same way and provides some excellent background as to why. I particularly liked her wishes for all new mothers and babies:
- I wish the arrival of every infant in the world was greeted with the same sense of anticipation and enthusiasm as the Royal arrival.
- I wish every mother, infant and family could receive the same “care” as the Royals will.
- I wish “we” cared as much about maternal and infant mortality around the world.
- I wish “we” cared as much about “other” mothers who aren’t supported in their mothering and against whom active measures are taken to regulate and surveil their bodies merely because of the accident of their own circumstances.
I would also be much happier about The Happy Event if it helped trigger greater awareness or debate about these issues.
3) While the ante-natal vigil on the streets of London by journalists eager to scoop the opposition and press photographers poised to capture the first glimpse of the baby was kind of amusing - ‘our latest report is that there is nothing new to report’ - the post-partum parade of new mother and baby was a little disturbing. I know that a straightforward birth can mean a new mother can go home or be up and about within a short while of delivering a baby, but most get to slope incognito out the hospital door wearing trackpants and a loose t-shirt.
Not so Princess Kate.
Instead, she was paraded before the waiting media, hair done, full make-up on, tasteful dress echoing that worn by her deceased mother-in-law in her own post-partum parade. While this was no doubt expected and planned for - that dress was surely no coincidence - one can only hope she was doped up to the eyeballs so as not to feel any of the swelling and pain that even in the best circumstances doesn’t subside until weeks after the birth. I can’t help but feel that this kind of tableau perpetuates the idea that birth is a walk in the park, particularly in countries where both infant and maternal mortality is low, and creates false and unreasonable expectations for new mothers.
What’s more, some media hacks and twitter trolls, who seem to have little understanding of basic biology, were already scrutinising her post-partum body and finding it wanting: look at that bump she still has! How’s she going to get rid of that? Kate’s post- pregnancy weight-loss plan! Good lord. While trade in celebrity post-natal weight-loss stories has been going strong for a while now, other celebrity mothers at least seem to get some choice about when and how they participate in this narrative (and get paid for it!) The rest of us just get to feel bad about how we can’t live up to these impossible ideals. Following hard on the heels of this damaging nonsense, however, was a wave of commentary supporting Kate and her bump display, saying that she, at least, was sending a positive message to women and girls that this is what a post-partum body looks like and it’s perfectly OK.
4) Around the world, The Happy Event was celebrated in a range of ways: buildings lit up in blue and read, word spelled out by anonymous bodies on naval ships, commemorative newspaper and magazine covers. In Wellington, the plan was to conduct a 21-gun salute. Yep, that’s right: letting off 21 loud noises from phallic-shaped machines designed to kill people to celebrate something that is virtually the complete opposite. That’s not at all weird.
What was weird, however, was the decision to go ahead with this ridiculous ceremony a mere day after the city had experienced a pretty strong earthquake, which may not have been deadly but certainly frayed nerves (mine included). Apparently celebrating the birth of a baby 12,000 miles away with a militaristic display was deemed more important than the mental wellbeing of some rattled residents. It’s great to know out city cares.
Now, I’m not saying that they need even have done something as sensible as not marking The Happy Event at all, but perhaps a more suitable alternative could’ve been found in the circumstances. Releasing 21 balloons, perhaps? (Or even 99?)
5) I have to confess that it would’ve been quite nice if the baby had been a girl (and I'm not alone in this one either). Not, I hasten to add, because I have anything at all against boy babies. I’m aware that the laws governing the royal succession were changed to specify that either a boy or girl would inherit the throne before the gender of the baby was known. While this may have positively impacted other members of the aristocracy, a number of Commonwealth states, of which the British monarch is still the titular head, decided to opt for a wait-and-see approach. This means that their succession laws still specify that a male heir needs to inherit the throne, and this in turn impacts on the coming into force of the British law i.e. despite the law change, until all 15 Commonwealth countries who have the monarch as their head of state change their laws it's in no way a done deal. The arrival of a boy ensures that primogeniture - one of the ribs making up the skeleton of patriarchy - survives for another generation, at least.
Kind of like the new Dr Who, in a way.
But in spite of all that, I wish you good luck new royal parents and baby: a newborn baby is precious, but also hard work. I’m sure the privileges you enjoy will ease some of that, but then I expect the downside is that, as your baby grows up, you will continue to be publicly scrutinised, idealised and perhaps even condemned for your parenting in a way that most of us are not.
